The Gap
by capitalab
Summary: Their first encounter is brief, minute, insignificant, forgettable. At least it should be. Edward and Bella live very different lives, but a chance encounter forces them to reexamine everything they thought they wanted.
1. We were doomed from the start

Their first encounter is brief: minute, insignificant, forgettable.

At least it should be. Over 251,000 commuters utilize the Chicago Transit Authority's Red Line on an average day, making it one of the most frequently traveled rails within the city. The passengers are always the same, slaves to the routine of a meaningless life. Most work. Some work harder, while others choose to waste away. Regardless of their purpose, or lack thereof, all of them slowly decay.

Among the quarter of a million nameless faces is a girl, fresh out of college and eager to take on the world... or so she would like you to believe. Bella Swan cautiously takes the stairs down to the platform one at a time. The music of a street performer can be heard in the distance, overshadowed only by the sound of an oncoming train. Most around her begin to rush, but not Bella. She's careful not to stumble in her brand new pair of designer heels. She'll catch the next one, she decides. A transplant from the University of Washington, Bella has an image to keep up, no matter how much the inherent clumsiness tries to hold her back.

She works hard. Too hard. After placing at the top of her graduating class, Bella landed a job at one of the most prestigious public relation firms in Chicago. Determined to climb to the top of the corporate ladder, she has changed everything about herself. She no longer wears the beloved pair of Chuck Taylors from her sophomore year of high school, and loungewear is strictly forbidden outside of her cozy apartment. She eats healthy, works out, and even has a line of credit for emergencies—the last of which pertained directly to the contents of her new closet.

Bella refuses to be held back, whether it be by herself or anyone else.

A boy, barely twenty-five years old, fingers the final chords of a song written only last night. Long auburn hair covers his eyes. An overgrown beard disguises his pale face. His clothes are tattered and worn, as if they haven't been washed in days. He notices the young debutant, but she pays him no mind. Bella works too hard for her money to even consider sparing a couple of bucks for the beggar, no matter how talented he might be.

And talented he is. She can admit it. The second day Bella sees him playing in the station, he's harder to ignore. Her mind begins to wander. What's his story? He's homeless, no doubt. She swears his clothes are the same as they were the day before. Maybe a war veteran? There are always stories on the news of soldiers returning from the middle east with traumatic brain injuries and PTSD. Is his music masking some sort of physical or emotional turmoil?

Probably not, she decides. He's probably just lazy.

Bella watches as he winks at a college-aged strawberry blonde, never missing a note. The girl slips a couple of carefully folded bills into his guitar case, and unbeknownst to Bella, a phone number too. Again the workaholic can't imagine parting with even a dollar of her hard earned cash, especially knowing he'll probably use it to buy drugs or booze. He's an addict, she decides. The creative minds always are.

She isn't completely wrong. While Edward probably will buy booze with the money from the co-ed, he isn't an addict. But he is a typical twenty-five year old male, and it is a Friday night, after all. Playing the platform at Monroe station over the past couple of days has given him a pretty good haul. It's been a good week, one worthy of an even better weekend. He decides he might even call the digits in his case to celebrate. Blondes aren't exactly Edward's type, but they get the job done.

He prefers brunettes.

The one standing in front of him, for example. He noticed her yesterday; she was hard to miss. Sexy, sophisticated, and completely out of his league—he'd be lying if he didn't admit her to be his primary reason for playing the same location two days in a row. Edward doesn't usually enjoy a challenge, but for the slender woman eyeing him as if he were a part of some sort of sideshow, he might make an exception.

He winks again. This time his charm is directed at Bella. She's becoming more visually appealing to him with every passing moment, and Edward can't help but notice the way her blush creeps all the way down to meet a low-cut top as she scurries carefully toward an arriving train. Again he commits her face to memory, knowing he'll definitely be back on this same platform next week. He checks his watch for a reference; the time is 6:45.

Their weekends pass quickly, albeit in very different ways. Bella spends most of her time at the office. She's working on the latest press releases, eager to make another good impression at Embry & Black. Last month the boss had given her a hefty bonus for all of her hard work. This month she's aiming for a promotion instead. The first of many, she hopes.

Edward wastes his weekend. He's either intoxicated or recovering from the effects. On Saturday night he calls the blonde; it's a mistake his best friend won't let him live down anytime soon. But they don't fuck, luckily. He's too immature, she's too clingy. He realizes this half way through their aggressive make-out session—the only way he can get her to shut up, or so he thought—when the word _relationship_ is muttered as if it's something he might be remotely interested in. He politely tells her he isn't looking for anything serious, only a good time. It seems less asshole-ish than telling her in the morning, but the stinging slap across his face leads Edward to believe she might disagree.

Talk about a mood killer.

Relationships aren't really Edward's thing. They're too much work. Oddly enough they aren't really Bella's either. She's too busy, too committed for anything other than the occasional weekend fling. And Edward... he's too noncommittal for anything other than a meaningless fuck. One might argue they would make the perfect pair, fuck buddies, or even just friends.

Or not.

They're opposite in every way. For Bella, success is the key to happiness. It's the reason she wakes up early every morning, dresses to the nines, and complies with her boss's every request. She's sacrificed friendships and familiarity in hopes of starting anew, leaving Washington state and an ailing father who despite working his whole life could never quite get ahead.

Charlie Swan wants more for his daughter. He hates himself for all of the times when they could barely afford dinner, and all of the frigid winter nights his daughter slept without heat. Officer Swan's ex-wife took everything when she left: the money, the credit cards, and even most of their furniture. The only thing she left behind was their three year old daughter, never to be heard from again.

And Bella wants more for herself. She wants to be happy, though Edward would probably insist she's going about it the wrong way. Success doesn't make you happy. Happiness makes its own success.

At least that's what he thinks.

It's Sunday evening when they meet again. Edward is on the platform gathering his thoughts after a particularly excruciating Sunday brunch. His parents have reconciled again, and while that might be good news for some, for Edward it only means collaborative attacks rather than individual criticizing. Music is his escape, and he's been playing for hours. He chooses the station at Monroe and State because of her, but knows seeing the brunette is unlikely during the weekend. The lonely street musician assumes she's at home, or possibly out to dinner with a boyfriend. For some reason, the thought lingers with him far longer than it should.

Just as Bella puts the finishing touches on a press release for next month's cancer benefit, Edward decides to call it quits for the night. He plays one last song before putting his prized acoustic back into its case, gathering the small fortune accumulated by passing travelers. Bella, less cautious in flats than she would be in her three-inch heels, hears the train approach from a distance and begins to rush down the stairs to the platform. It's the weekend, after all, and the trains don't run as often as they do during the week. The last thing she wants to do is spend the next seven minutes waiting alone for a train in downtown Chicago.

Edward latches the final buckle of his hardshell case just as Bella's hands and knees meet the dirty concrete with a small yelp. "Shit," he mutters, hearing a woman trip. He runs over to assist, having no idea of the tripper's identity until his hands are already helping her up and he's spoken. "Are you okay?"

Bella glances up, red with embarrassment. She's fine, minus the humiliation that accompanies tripping over your own feet. Edward isn't entirely convinced. He steadies her, gently taking his time and trying hard not to let his hands linger on her waist. His smile is warm and sincere, and it's the first time Bella actually notices him.

Edward is a very handsome man. He's trimmed the beard since Friday, and his piercing green eyes leave her momentarily unable to speak. It's only after a few seconds that she manages to offer a sincere thanks.

"I think I'm okay." Her eyes drift from the stranger to the guitar case no more than ten feet away. It's being carried hurriedly onto the departing train. "Hey! Isn't that yours?"

Edward turns in horror just as the automatic doors begin to shut. He sprints toward the train anyway, screaming obscenities the entire way. It's too late. The train begins to roll, taking his cherished guitar with it. Its thief makes an inappropriate hand signal from behind the glass as if he's invincible... and he is. Over a quarter of a million people ride the subway in Chicago every day. No matter how hard Edward tries to remember the bastard's face, chances are that he'll never see the thief _or_ his guitar again.

"Fuck!" Edward snaps, repeatedly punching a nearby concrete support beam. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!" Bella doesn't know what else to say. She knows it's all her fault, and the thought of a poor street musician losing his only source of income is enough to bring tears to her eyes.

"I've had that guitar for seven years!"

"Don't worry! I'll pay for it, I promise. And I can get your dinner too. And rent you a hotel for the night, so you'll have a safe place to stay..."

Edward pauses. It's only then that he notices the blood on his knuckles... and the pain. Still he can't help but smile. "Wait. You're going to _what_?"

"You're..." Bella trails off, suddenly unsure. The blush is back, and Edward definitely notices. "You're homeless. Aren't you?"

It's so absurd, he can't help but laugh. "What makes you think that?"

Bella wonders where she should start. The whole situation is mortifying, and the last thing she wants to do is offend him any more than she already has. She's tempted to bolt up the stairwell to avoid his line of questioning altogether, but given her track record she decides it might not be the best method of escape.

"You're... begging. For money."

His smile morphs into a grimace. "Oh, come on! I don't sound that bad... do I?"

"No! Of course not! You're actually really good."

"So what makes you think I'm homeless?"

"Your... clothes... hair... face..."

"My face?"

Bella rolls her eyes. "The beard. You know what I mean."

"I do. But I fail to see how any of this—" He gestures toward himself "—makes me homeless."

"Are you?"

He shrugs. "Not really."

She purses her eyebrows. "Not really?"

"I'm Edward, by the way."

The way he changes the subject doesn't escape Bella's notice, but she chooses not to press the matter. He's probably already offended enough, and she still feels terrible about the stolen guitar. It's kind of ironic. Two days ago she wouldn't have parted with even a dollar for the musician in the metro station, but now she's willing to buy him an entire instrument—possibly one even nicer than the one stolen.

She offers him a petite hand to shake. "Bella."

"Well despite the circumstances it's nice to meet you, Bella. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. I promise. Probably better than you at this point."

Edward knows this is probably true, but he chooses to bite his lip. "I'm sure I'll get over it."

"I really will pay for the guitar. I insist."

Again, she makes him smile. He doesn't want her to pay for the guitar; it isn't her fault he was irresponsible with it. "No you won't. It's fine. I actually had a pretty lucrative day today."

"Gee, and that makes me feel better."

"You know what might make _me_ feel better?"

"What?" She listens intently, willing to do almost anything to right the situation.

"I'm starving, Bella. Do you want to go get some dinner?"

She doesn't expect him to be so forward, and she isn't exactly polite. "No."

"No? But you just said—"

"I said I'd buy you dinner. I wasn't trying to make it a date."

"Why not?"

"Which reason do you want? For starters I don't know you, and I'm still not convinced you have a permanent address."

He interrupts her. "I do."

"Right. But we only met five minutes ago in what might as well have been a dark alley. If I say yes, what guarantee is there that I won't end up some Dateline NBC special? You'll probably chop me up into a million pieces and throw me into some dumpster."

"But not the one I live in, right?"

"See? You aren't even trying to deny it!"

He doesn't even try to hide his grin. Despite the circumstances, it's clear his mood is improving. "You can relax. If I'm going to murder anyone, it's going to be the guy who stole my guitar."

"But murdering me is convenient. Hell, you probably wanted to murder blondie from the other day too but couldn't get her alone."

His stomach turns at the mention of the blonde yapper, but he continues to laugh anyway. Edward realizes Bella has been paying more attention to him than he originally thought, and it's almost as much attention as he's been giving her. "Believe me, Bella, getting Tanya alone was pretty easy after a couple shots of Jack. And in case you're wondering, I _did_ want to murder her by the end of the night... but only so she'd shut up."

Bella's jaw drops, and a disgusted gasp escapes. She rolls her eyes, trying to mask the tiny amount of jealousy threatening to reveal itself. She can't believe that for a second, she actually thought Edward might be a decent guy. Clearly he's not if he treats women as if they're a dime a dozen.

"Seriously? I can't believe you." She turns to walk away, but the next train hasn't arrived yet, and there aren't very many places to hide.

"Will you loosen up a little?" He doesn't even know why he's saying it. It's not like he answers to a stranger in the subway. Unless... "Wait, are you jealous?"

"God, no!" She answers a little too quickly. "Believe me, the last thing I want right now is a relationship."

"Is that a generalized statement? Or something you only direct toward vagrants in the subway?"

The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes he's said them, and he doesn't know where they came from. It's not like he wants a relationship either, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want _something_ with the pretty brunette.

Sex, preferably.

"Will you let it go? I'm sorry I said you were homeless, okay? And yes, it's a general statement... mostly directed toward annoying guys who can't take a hint."

"Well you can relax. I'm not looking for a relationship either. It's too soon. The only woman I've ever loved just ran away with another man on the subway."

"If you're trying to make me feel guilty, it's working."

"Come on, Bella. It's only one dinner. After that you can consider the absurd guitar debt paid and forget all about me." For a second he lets his guard down, and his loneliness begins to show. "I... I just need some company. It's been a long day."

Edward doesn't know why he sounds so desperate. It's not as if he's aching for female attention. Most women he could bed by the end of the night, but Bella... she's different. She's everything he should be utterly repulsed by; his total opposite. Still, there's something about her that pulls him in. The attraction is definitely there, and he's convinced she feels it too.

"Fine," Bella concedes. "Just this once. But I get to pick the place, and I'm paying."


	2. as starters are

It's almost 8:15 when Bella and Edward finally find themselves seated and waiting for their food. Bella chooses a stir fry grill she's visited a few times with co-workers, and Edward playfully teases her over the variety of vegetables in her bowl as he loads his own with proteins. When a young waiter named Sam appears a few seconds later to take their drink order, he plays little attention to Edward. It's clear that Sam doesn't see Edward as a threat, even if he and Bella are sitting at the table alone as if it were a date.

Edward is not amused. He knows they're an unlikely pair. Even dressed casually, Bella manages to catch the attention of almost every male in the restaurant. Her beauty is definitive, and the extra attention it receives is almost enough to make Edward see red. While they obviously aren't on an actual date, he still feels it inappropriate for the waiter to flirt so openly with another man's dinner companion. Edward assumes he's just an asshole, but perhaps Sam can sense the unfamiliarity between the two strangers.

But it's not as awkward as it should be. Bella, initially reluctant to engage in conversation with Edward, eventually concedes, and things flow easier than she'd care to admit. It's only been six weeks since the move from Washington, and her only acquaintances are fellow associates at Embry & Black. She can't remember the last time she ate dinner accompanied, and for that reason alone she eventually decides to make the most of it, ordering a Long Island in hopes that it will loosen her up. Edward asks for a beer.

She's just about to finish her first when their meals finally arrive. Bella's is loaded with mushrooms, baby corn, and broccoli... the combination of which being something that Edward would never willingly eat. But even without the variety of greenery, his portion of food is nearly twice the size of hers. The silence returns as they begin their dinner, but this time it doesn't last for long.

"So what's with all the veggies anyway? Are you a vegetarian or something?"

She shrugs. "Not really."

"You must be having some sort of rabbit identity crisis, then."

"You're right." Her voice lowers down to a whisper. She winks. "I'm framing Roger Rabbit."

His laugh is over the top. He's loud, obnoxious, and completely insincere. The expression on his face quickly shifts from jovial to something much more serious. "Seriously, what's the deal?"

"I'm sort of on a diet, that's all."

Edward fights the urge to roll his eyes. It's a typical female answer. He assumed as much, but that doesn't make it any less absurd. Bella can't weigh more than 125 pounds, and Edward can't fathom why she would want to weigh any less. In his eyes her body is perfect, and the attention it garners is capable of getting them both into a lot of trouble.

"Because God forbid you trigger the airbag sensor when riding in the passenger's seat of a vehicle."

"I take the L, remember? And besides, I used to weigh 300 pounds for all you know."

"But you didn't."

She takes another bite and chooses not to respond. Edward is right, but she doesn't want to tell him why. Until recently Bella never had an opportunity to overeat. Her childhood is embarrassing to say the least, and ever since the freshman fifteen she has been struggling not to overindulge during meals. The sad truth is that attractive women are more likely to get ahead in their careers, and the last thing Bella wants is for a few extra pounds to hold her back from something she believes she truly deserves.

"You do realize you're smoking hot, right? I mean, I'm not just saying that. I noticed you from across the platform."

She scoffs, remembering the insinuation he made about the blonde and using it to discredit his sincerity. "Me and every other girl, apparently."

"It's easy to notice someone when she's throwing herself at you."

"Is that what you think I was doing tonight?"

Before Edward can respond the waiter comes back and asks the two if they'd like refills. Both quickly say yes, but the waiter lingers at the table long enough to make idle talk with Bella. She isn't as rude as Edward would like her to be, and during certain parts of the conversation she's almost _too_ nice. Edward eventually clears his throat in hopes that the waiter will take a hint, but it takes another minute and a half before Sam disappears and Edward is alone with Bella again.

"Jealous, much?" she asks. "I thought you said you weren't looking for a relationship."

Edward is quick to defend himself. "I'm not. I just think he's rude, that's all."

She sighs. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Besides... I thought you weren't either."

"I'm not."

Again, Edward's curiosity gets the best of him. "Ex-boyfriend break your heart?"

"No." She smiles playfully. "Not by a long shot. I just don't do relationships. They're too time consuming."

"Said no girl ever."

"I'm serious! I'm not afraid to take care of my own needs, and when I don't feel like doing that I can usually find a guy who's more than willing to do it for me. Guys really go for the whole no-strings-attached thing."

Edward nearly chokes on his stir fry. The thought of engaging in casual sex with Bella goes straight to his head, and she loves the way his jaw nearly drops to the floor. Having a fleeting moment with Edward isn't exactly at the forefront of her mind, but she can't deny herself the joy she gets from teasing him.

"What's the catch?" he asks.

Her eyebrows furrow. "No catch."

"Bullshit. You've just described the perfect woman... something that doesn't exist. There _has_ to be a catch."

Under normal circumstances, Bella wouldn't dream of indulging such information with someone like Edward. Their conversation has thus far been concentrated on her, and she still has hardly any idea of what to make of the man who may or may not be living under an overpass. However, nothing about their meeting has been normal, and the alcohol content in her Long Island is much higher than what she's accustomed. It's been months since Bella let loose, and she's already on the verge of drowning in its effects. Bella's second drink is almost empty. She finishes it off with a single gulp before responding.

"I won't swallow."

"Figures," he mutters. "What, don't like the taste?"

"Not particularly. And it's not like I'm sucking you off for _my_ enjoyment anyway, so why would I bother?"

"Because guys love it, for one."

"Guys only love it because it shows dominance. Ownership. It's a control thing, like you're trying to mark your territory or something. I like to be independent; I'm nobody's property, nobody's girlfriend, and I won't be treated as such."

"Wow." He has to pick his jaw up off the ground in order to continue. "You're looking way too far into that. I just think it's hot."

She scoffs. "Yeah, well, you'd have to be pretty hot for me to consider doing it."

"Are you going to make me pull out too?"

He's joking, but he's also serious. The subtle shift in her context didn't go unnoticed by Edward, and he isn't sure if it's intentional. When the conversation started, they were speaking hypothetically, with broad terms. Now it would appear to Edward as if Bella is flirting with him. Blame it on the alcohol. Call it wishful thinking. Consider it nothing short of a goddamn miracle... or maybe just Edward's lucky day.

She smirks, satisfied that he's playing along. "Pull out? No... not usually. I'm on the pill, and I always make guys use protection so there's never really a need."

"Well, at least there's one thing we can agree on. I'd never trust a girl enough to go bare."

They're interrupted by their waiter, who appears to be tripping over his own feet. He's caught the last part of their exchange, but what he's heard doesn't prevent him from trying once more to make his move on Bella. If anything he's more determined than ever, presenting them with two separate checks. At the bottom of Bella's is a handwritten phone number, but she's too occupied with trying to wrestle Edward's check away from him to even notice it. Earlier Bella had insisted on paying for his meal. It was a condition to her acceptance of his dinner invitation, and she'll be damned if he succeeds in finding a way to turn the tables. Luckily for Bella, all it takes is some conniving to convince Sam to combine the checks.

"You shouldn't do that," Edward advises as Sam disappears with Bella's credit card.

"Do what?"

"Lead him on. Make him think he has a chance. It's not fair."

"Who says I'm leading anyone on? He's cute."

"He's a douche bag."

"And you aren't?"

"Touché."

Sam returns, having ran her credit card for the combined checks. He wishes Bella a good night, taking a playful stab at Edward before clearing a few things from their table. Sam's flirting takes Bella aback. The clumsy girl from a few years ago would have never gotten this kind of attention, and she's even more surprised when she opens the little black folder to tip and sign. It's hard to miss Sam's digits on her itemized copy, and she assures that Edward sees them too before folding the receipt and putting it into her handbag.

It's doubtful that Bella will be calling Sam, but as far as she's concerned, Edward doesn't need to know that. His annoyance is visible, and she's enjoying messing with him. "What? I like to keep track of how much money I have," she teases.

And then she remembers who she's talking to: the poor and possibly homeless street musician, and she realizes she's taken it too far. Her head lowers in shame.

"Shit! Sorry. I didn't mean it—"

He shrugs it off. "Don't worry about it. Really, Bella, money doesn't mean anything to me."

His attempt to curb the awkwardness fails miserably. They leave the restaurant in uncomfortable silence, and after embarrassing herself Bella relievedly assumes their night together is over. She expects to part ways when they reach the train platform, never to see Edward again. Obviously they had nothing in common. They could never be friends, especially not after the way she'd acted at the restaurant. As she prepares herself for an awkward goodbye, it becomes apparent that Edward has plans of his own.

"North, right?"

"Excuse me?"

"We're taking the L north. You live north, right?"

"Oh no, no, no. Our night together ends here."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's late; I'm not letting you walk home alone. Too dangerous."

"Uh-huh. Right. I'm sure your intentions are completely innocent."

They aren't. He plays her off, rolling his eyes. "You know, you're right. I'm trying _really_ hard to murder you, but you're making it so goddamn difficult."

"You know that's not what I meant!"

He does. "Okay, fine. I won't walk you home."

Bella's expression is triumphant. Getting rid of Edward was much easier than she had expected—almost _too_ easy. After wishing him a good night and a good life, she turns toward the platform. Having said his own goodbyes, Edward maintains a fair distance from Bella as the oncoming train stops and opens its doors. The cars in front of them are mostly empty, but those already aboard aren't among Chicago's finest. A particularly shady character offers Bella a smirk as she forces one foot in front of the other. She hesitates, looking back to find Edward much closer than she had anticipated.

"Jesus Christ!" His closeness startles her, but almost immediately she feels relief. Still, Bella isn't about to give Edward any indication that she actually wants or needs his help. "What are you doing?"

It might be creepy... if he weren't so visibly amused by annoying her. "I didn't say I wasn't going to follow you. And technically, I'm not. Public transportation, remember?"

Bella's fists tighten. Edward isn't fighting fair. She decides she doesn't have to either. "God, you're ridiculous! Isn't there a shelter you should be getting to?"

"Right. I forgot. Too bad I don't know where any are..." His voice lowers down to a whisper, and he nods to a grimey vagabond asleep in one of the jump seats. "So I guess I'll just follow that guy instead."

"Shut up, Edward!" she hisses. "He might hear you!"

"And? What's he going to do, stab us?"

"You never know!"

"Good point. Now, are you _sure_ you don't want me to walk you home?"

His face is smug as the two of them square off. Neither of them speak until the train is already arriving at its next station. They've studied each other's eyes thoroughly, each looking for a sign of weakness. Bella knows he's right. She knows there's safety in numbers, and though Edward's intentions aren't one hundred percent pure, his primary concern is Bella's safety. For that reason alone, he doesn't argue with her condition when she finally throws in the towel.

"Okay, fine. You win. But don't think for even a second that this means you'll be getting an invite in."

Thirteen stops separate Edward and Bella from Addison Station. Bella's lonely studio apartment is a short walk from the tracks, but not short enough. It adds another five minutes onto the twenty she spends on the tracks during each and every commute. Typically she relies on technology for entertainment, and tonight is no different. As soon as it's established that Edward is accompanying her back to Wrigleyville, she finds an empty seat, pops her earbuds in begins to drown out the sound. In the process she shuts out Edward as well.

"Oh, sure. I'll share."

She's completely repulsed. He hadn't asked before grabbing one of the earphones and sticking it into his own ear. Edward is prepared to tease her for what he assumes to be horrible taste in music, but he's shocked to discover that it isn't at all what he thought it would be. Soon Edward is quietly singing along, and Bella is fighting with herself over the fact that the already stuffy train is suddenly getting much stuffier.

She almost reconsiders inviting him in.

_Almost_.

"Well, this is it."

They're stopped outside the entrance to Bella's modest apartment building, but neither make a move to end the night. Edward's duty is done. Bella has made it home safely. As far as he's concerned, the ridiculously expensive guitar debt has been paid. Bella never has to see him again, though it's likely she will considering he knows exactly where to find her. Edward tells Bella that despite the circumstances, it's been a good night. She nods in agreeance. No matter how annoying he might be, she still finds amusement in his company.

"Give me your cell phone."

At first she's caught off guard, and Bella hesitates. She tries to make her escape, but fumbling with the building lock proves difficult when flustered.

He can't contain his laughter. "Will you relax? I'm not robbing you. I just want to program my number in it since you're new in town. You know, in case you need anything."

She sighs, feeling stupid for making such an assumption and hands him the phone.

He puts it in his pocket just to see the look on her face.

"Asshole," she mutters.

He hands the phone back after adding his number. "Aren't you going to give me yours?"

She smirks. "Nice try, Edward."

He doesn't press the matter. Edward knows she'll call eventually. The girls always do. Why would Bella be any different? They say their final goodbyes, and this time both of them know their night together is finally over. She doesn't invite him inside, and he doesn't stick around waiting to be.

Bella takes the stairs to the third floor two at a time, eager to end her day. She has to be at the office early tomorrow. There's still plenty of work to be done for the benefit, and she's already wasted too much time screwing around with Edward. She needs her rest.

There's no rest for Edward. As he walks the street alone, his mind drifts between the guitar he lost, and the girl he may never have. He returns to the subway, unsure of where he's going. The doors open, and he knows it'll be a long night.


	3. Why am I doing this?

For Bella, the days and nights following her dinner with Edward are consumed with public relations. Having slept little on Sunday night, she arrives at the office before daybreak on Monday morning and doesn't leave until the sunlight has vanished from her fourteenth floor view. As the week continues so does the trend. She works earlier and stays later than everyone else at Embry & Black, often doing more in one day than most of her co-workers manage to accomplish in the entire week. As a result, she attains control over another one of the company's most prestigious accounts and receives personal recognition from the company's new CEO, Jacob Black.

But even working day and night, she can't shake the obnoxious street musician from her mind. She hasn't seen or spoken to Edward since they parted ways on Sunday night. Her decision not to call or text is conscientious, as is her avoidance of evening rush hour on the subway. The platform is void of almost everyone by the time Bella makes her way home every night. It's an unnecessary precaution as she knows it's doubtful he'll be there anyway. A street musician isn't much good without his instrument.

She works to distract herself, but he's always in the back of her mind. Bella knows she can't face Edward until she rectifies the guitar situation, and she tells herself that her interest in the complete stranger goes little beyond that. Maybe they could be friends—if only she had time for friends. Clearly they could never be lovers, at least not without eventually murdering each other. Never in Bella's life has she met someone so aggravating, so annoying, and so... unforgettable. Making sense of her feelings would appear to be impossible beyond that.

Edward's feelings are much less complex. From Bella he only wants one thing. Every thought in his mind centers on bedding the woman who cost him his most prized possession. He's unable to concentrate on anything else, and each day she doesn't call is another day in which he gains a little more interest. Bella is a challenge indeed. He waits for her on the platform every evening to no avail, convinced she's only absent out of spite. By Friday his frustration, both mental and sexual, has reached a dangerous level. With the weekend upon him, he resolves to find a distraction. Edward is ready to settle for the first girl he meets, desperate to regain whatever sanity he might have left.

The day is especially long for Bella. She's ready for the weekend and actually intends on treating it as such for the first time in weeks. Overworking all week has left her exhausted, and she spends most of the morning at her desk consumed with the idea of seeing Edward again. Bella is unable to concentrate on anything else. Emails aren't sent. Deadlines are barely made. The boss holds a meeting over lunch, from which Bella can remember absolutely nothing. By two o'clock her head is pounding. The four walls surrounding her begin to feel like a prison, and she's desperate to make an escape.

"Isabella, can I see you in my office for a second?"

The blood drains from Bella's face. Jacob Black is not much older than she is, and he takes his job very seriously. As the son of Embry & Black's co-founder, William Black, he was groomed from a very early age to take over the family business. Jacob tries just as hard as Bella to prove himself, possibly even harder. Having just taken over his father's share in the company, he has a lot of people to convince of his merit. In addition to being very handsome, Jacob can be quite intimidating. He's gone before Bella can even respond. She takes a few seconds to pull herself together before heading to his office, so nervous that, for the first time since Sunday, she momentarily forgets about Edward.

"Yes, sir?"

Jacob's office is easily twice the size of Bella's. It's adorned with sports memorabilia, and the seating is ample. Bella shuts the door behind her at Jacob's request and takes a seat in one of the spacious chairs across from his oversized mahogany desk. He picks up an autographed baseball and begins to fidget.

"Are you feeling okay?"

She shrugs. "Headache."

He frowns, but otherwise shows no indication of sympathy. "Did you contact channel five about the benefit?"

"I did. They've got us scheduled for the morning show the day of."

"Excellent. And the catering company?"

Bella nods. "Chicken and pasta. Everything's set."

Jacob's face is stern. "I had a feeling it would be. I can recognize that you've been working very hard, Isabella. Taking on this event was a big responsibility, but it seems you're finishing everything well ahead of schedule. I have every bit of confidence that this could be one of our most successful functions to date."

"I certainly hope so."

"That being said, it's nothing to make yourself sick over."

"I know," she says.

"Go ahead and take the rest of the afternoon off. We've got a lot going on next week, and I'm going to need you to be well rested and ready to work. You're my right hand man. I can't do it without you."

The two of them go back and forth until Bella hesitantly agrees. She reluctantly thanks Jacob before heading back to her desk, forcing herself into the proper mindset to finish a few emails. Bella's headache doesn't subside, and as she steps foot onto the elevator, she's left with an empty afternoon and a crowded mind.

Bella is in search of a coffee shop when she stumbles upon Riverside Music. Curiosity leads her inside, and once her eyes land on the wide variety of acoustic guitars, she knows there's no turning back. Without allowing herself even a moment to reconsider, she approaches the man behind the counter. He flashes Bella a strange look. Having come straight from work, Bella doesn't exactly fit in among the raw noise and grunge.

"Can I help you?"

"Um, yeah. Well, I hope so. I'm in the market for an acoustic guitar."

"Acoustic, eh? Do you play?"

"Oh, it's not for me. It's for a friend."

He arches his eyebrows. "Boyfriend?"

She fails to see how that's any of his business. "God, no. Just a friend."

"Well, I wish I had a friend like you." Bella follows the Kurt Cobain wanna-be over to a wall displaying several different acoustic guitars. "So, tell me more about this friend."

She isn't sure what to say. He isn't even a friend, really. Edward is more of a mystery. "What do you mean?"

"Well, is he a beginner? Does he perform?"

"Oh! He's really good. Good enough to be professional." At least that's what she thinks. Bella doesn't know the first thing about music, but she likes Edward's sound. She watches as the salesman selects a guitar from the wall. It looks as if it's seen better days.

"Mmm... How about this one?"

He hands it to Bella for further examination. She checks for a price tag, or anything to identify it by, but comes up empty. "What is it?"

"Martin D-18. Just came it in a couple of days ago. Nice guitar. And from the looks, it's been well loved."

"It looks like it's been through hell." She assumes this will put it well within her price range. "How much?"

"Well, new they retail for around nine grand..." he trails off as if it's no big deal. "But given the condition, and since you're a pretty lady, I think I can let this one go for around four."

"Four grand? You're joking, right?"

He grins. "A little out of your price range?"

"Uh, yeah." Bella doesn't try to hide her annoyance. She wonders if he's judging on appearance or making a lame attempt to flirt. Either way the salesman failed miserably. "Out of any sane person's ever, I'm pretty sure."

The guitar is out of Bella's hands and back on display in a matter of milliseconds. He picks up another. "Okay, okay. I guess that wasn't as funny as I thought it'd be. How about this one? It's an Epiphone PR5-E, brand spanking new and on sale for just under three hundred bucks."

He hands the significantly less expensive guitar to Bella. She examines it thoroughly, but knowing absolutely nothing about guitars, she can only make observations about one thing.

"I like the color."

"The sunburst is a big seller. You see, the nice thing about this guitar is its ability to plug into an amplifier. So it's quiet enough for an apartment or loud enough to play a show."

"I'll take it," she says.

"Rock on. Are you going to need a case?"

Buying a guitar on impulse is something Bella never thought she'd do. With that being the case, she hasn't put much thought into accessories, nor do they fit into her already tight budget. But spending three hundred dollars on a guitar is bad enough, and it seems irresponsible to pay so much without splurging for a case as well. She knows that with her bad luck and poor coordination, it's likely she'll destroy the instrument in the subway without one. For that reason alone she purchases an inexpensive hardshell. The guy at the shop also convinces Bella to buy extra picks, strings, and even a capo. It's everything Edward could possibly need to get back on his feet.

Later in the evening, Bella is sitting alone in her apartment. She's spent the past thirty minutes staring down the guitar as if it's an unwanted guest in the corner of her living room, slowly working up the courage to give Edward a call. Her mind is plagued with second thoughts.

_Maybe this is a bad idea._

_Who buys a musical instrument for a random stranger?_

It's overkill. It sends the wrong message. She wonders how she could be so stupid, so irrational. He probably doesn't even want to see her again, she decides. And even if he does, it's not as if she's trying to impress him.

After a few more minutes of going back and forth with herself, Bella finally works up enough courage to scroll through the contacts of her cell phone. She goes directly to the Es for obvious reasons, paying little attention to the entries in-between. Her heart sinks when she's unable to find an entry for Edward, and she's overwhelmed with anger.

"Asshole," she mutters before throwing the phone onto the coffee table. The possibility that he only pretended to save his name makes Bella's eyes sting, but it seems questionable as to why he would do such a thing. If he didn't want her to have his number, he shouldn't have offered it. She lets out an exasperated sigh before picking up the phone and scrolling again, wishing for some way to give the annoying son of a bitch a piece of her mind.

After finally finding the entry she assumes to be his, Bella hits the call button. She's eager to get on with the conversation before she can change her mind, but it takes Edward four rings to answer his cell phone. When he finally does, the background noise is deafening. "Hello?"

"Hey, _Hobo_." Bella's eyes roll at her use of the name he saved in her phone. She starts the conversation simple enough. "It's Bella."

He has to yell over the racket. "Hold on!"

Bella waits impatiently as Edward gets away from the sound by ducking into an alley. He's at a venue, anxiously awaiting a performance by his best friend's new band. Once outside he lights up a cigarette before putting the phone back to his ear. A few seconds pass.

"Okay. I can hear now," he says, calm, cool, and collected.

Unfortunately Bella's courage is all but gone. Edward is obviously busy. He doesn't have time for her, just like she doesn't have time for him. "Hey, Edward. It's Bella Swan."

"Who?" he teases.

"You know what? This is stupid. Never mind."

He barely succeeds in catching her before she hangs up the phone. "Bella, wait! I was just screwing around with you. I'm..." he hesitates. "I'm glad you called."

Very glad, in fact. Edward takes a long drag from his cigarette. His nerves are tense. Not hearing from Bella all week has been enough to drive him insane, and the feeling is foreign. Girls don't typically make Edward nervous. He doesn't understand why he cares so much, but he does.

She's skeptical. "You are?"

"Well, yeah." He regrets answering truthfully, knowing it will only worsen the situation he's gotten himself into. Sure, Bella had said she didn't want a relationship, but how could Edward know she was being serious? He doesn't want to lead her on anymore than he already has, but she's just too fun to flirt with. "It's nice to know you aren't out fraternizing with other panhandlers."

"Ugh, are you ever going to let that go?"

"No, probably not." She can hear the smile in his voice. "Hey, what are you doing tonight?"

Bella takes a deep breath and finds her confidence again. "I was actually hoping we could meet up somewhere."

He sighs. "I'm actually kind of busy." Edward doesn't want Bella to know how desperate he is to see her. He tries to keep his voice calm as he nonchalantly adds, "I mean, unless you want to come out to my friend's show."

She's hesitant. This isn't quite what Bella had in mind. "A show?"

"His band, Bella."

"I know what a show is, Edward," she snaps. "Where is it?"

He provides her with all of the necessary details. The two of them attempt to contain their anxiety while exchanging an awkward goodbye, and Bella unburies the Chucks from the bottom of her closet. She throws on an old pair of jeans, unsure of what to expect, but knowing business casual probably isn't the best option. It's the first time she's dressed comfortably in weeks, and for once she actually feels like herself. After grabbing her license and a few bucks from her wallet, she heads out, guitar in tow.

Getting back onto the subway is just as nerve-racking for Bella as it had been earlier in the day—possibly even more so. She's completely paranoid. Every passing traveler is a likely guitar thief in Bella's mind. Every pole, pillar, seat, and staircase are obstacles waiting to damage the guitar, even if it is in a case. And as if all of that isn't scary enough, Bella knows she's about to see Edward, and she has no idea what to expect.

She wonders if he actually wants to see her or if he's just trying to pack a crowd for his friend.

The venue is full when she arrives, but Edward isn't hard to locate. He's standing near the entrance impatiently awaiting her safe arrival. A week's worth of scruff covers his face. It's much thicker than last time, but she recognizes him right away. Their eyes land on each other at the same moment, and she offers him a small but reserved smile. It's met by a look of confusion.

"Uh, open mic night is tomorrow, I think," he teases.

"Right. As if I have even an ounce of musical talent. This is for you, Hobo."

It's with absolute shock and a small amount of horror that Edward takes the case from his new friend. His worst fears are confirmed when he opens the hardshell to find what appears to be a brand new acoustic guitar. "Please tell me this was, like, lying in your closet or in a dumpster or something."

She shakes her head. "No, it didn't come from my closet... or yours for that matter. It's a gift."

"Fuck, you shouldn't have done this."

"Well, I wanted to. The guy at the store said you'd like it. I hope he's right."

Edward examines the guitar in disbelief, removing it from its case. He's speechless. His fingers glide lightly over the frets, examining every square inch of its surface. Soon he's eyeing Bella in the same manner. She looks different, and not only because her clothes are casual. It's the first time he sees her for what she really is: kind, considerate, and maybe even a little insecure. Bella waits with bated breath for his approval.

"You are not at all what you seem, are you?"

Their eyes meet, each of them seemingly searching for something deeper. The moment lingers as Bella attempts to articulate an answer to Edward's question. She isn't sure what to say, how much to reveal. And it doesn't matter anyway, because the moment is interrupted too soon. Another woman approaches. She's young. Bella won't be surprised if the girl is fresh out of high school; she certainly dresses the part. Short in stature, her hair is highly stylized. She's beautiful. In Bella's mind, this makes the girl a likely conquest of Edward's.

"There you are!" the girl says excitedly. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

The sparkle in Bella's eyes is replaced with fire. She's furious. It's unbelievable that Edward has invited her out while in pursuit of someone else. She knows she has no right. After all it was her who had called him earlier in the evening. Bella tells herself she should have expected no less from a guy like Edward, but she's unable to shake the feeling of betrayal.

"But you're _exactly_ how you seem, aren't you?"

She turns to leave. Never mind the guitar; it was a gift. The debt is paid. She hadn't expected anything in return, and up until this point she hadn't wanted anything more with Edward. The city is big. Bella knows there are plenty of guys out there who would be willing to take her mind off work, and Edward too. It's been so long since Bella has gone to a bar alone, but that's exactly where she's heading.

"Bella, wait!" He stops Bella by gripping her upper arm. She turns to face him again and becomes even more aggravated by the smile on his face.

"Seriously, Edward?" she asks. "Am I your back-up plan or something?"

"Back-up plan?" Edward and the girl by his side can't help but laugh. "Let me get this straight," he says. "You think I invited you here." He pauses. "To hang out with me." And again. "While I'm trying to hook up with another chick."

Bella looks between the two of them. She isn't quite sure what to say. "Well—"

"I'm Alice." The other woman extends her hand. "His sister."

It's only then that Bella recognizes a slight resemblance between the two. She's completely humiliated but doesn't want to be rude. The two shake hands. "Sorry," she mumbles. "I'm Bella."

"Yeah, I know." Alice smiles. "My brother hasn't stopped talking about you since we got here."

Alice's honestly causes Edward to go on the defense. "I was glad you called, that's all. After not seeing you on the platform all week, I was beginning to worry that maybe you'd replaced me with another vagabond."

Bella rolls her eyes. "Sure you were."

"Where have you been, anyway?"

"If you must know, I've been working late. I'm in public relations, and the firm I work for is putting on this huge cancer benefit next month."

"Really?" Alice asks.

"Yeah. It's actually pretty stupid. Basically a bunch of extremely pretentious assholes get together for dinner and pretend to care about a cause."

Edward interrupts. "But in reality, they only care about themselves?"

"Right. They just want to make themselves look good... as if they have any idea what it's actually like."

Edward is skeptical. "But you do?"

"My dad has cancer," Bella says.

His voice turns sympathetic. "So did mine."

Bella doesn't ask questions. She isn't sure she wants to know how the story ends. Her own father is terminal. He has been for quite some time. What began in his lungs metastasized before anyone even knew, and the doctors say it will only be a matter of months. Edward doesn't want to say more. He's suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to shelter Bella from the disease he knows so much about.

He exhales. "Well on that note, I think I'm going to put this guitar backstage with the rest of Jasper's stuff and hit the bar. Bella, Alice, do you want anything?"

With requests for beer and soda, Edward momentarily walks away. Leaving Bella alone with Alice isn't exactly ideal, but he needs to get lost for a few seconds. He can only hope his little sister won't say too much while he's gone. The thinking is wishful. Edward opts not to step outside for a much needed smoke, and quickly runs the acoustic guitar backstage where he spots his friend Jasper making final preparations with the band. They're due on stage any minute as the headliners, and Edward only has time to briefly explain his new guitar before Jasper is called for the final sound check. He heads to the bar.

"Two Red Stripes and a Pepsi."

An approaching broad interrupts his order. "And a Vodka Red Bull."

Edward's stare is blank as the female bats her eyes at him. A week ago he would have jumped on the opportunity to buy the pretty girl a drink, but that was before he met Bella. He looks across the crowded venue and his suspicions are confirmed: Bella and Alice are watching the interaction intently. For a split second, he considers his options. Pursue the easy conquest and he may ruin his only opportunity to hook up with Bella. But that's assuming Bella is actually willing to put out, and if she isn't does he really want to run the risk of spending a Friday night alone?

Alice sighs. "Ugh, here we go again."

She and Bella had been making idle small talk until Edward's new friend appeared at the bar. His sister's disgust is obvious, but Bella works a little harder to hide her own. She doesn't want to seem over-involved, nor does she want Alice to catch on to the hint of jealousy creeping over her. The female worms her way closer to Edward's side.

Bella keeps her voice nonchalant. "I'm assuming he gets this kind of attention a lot."

"It's disgusting, isn't it? Girls never leave him alone."

"Not that he seems to mind."

Edward glances over at the two of them again. The look on his face is pathetic, as if he's asking for help or struggling between some sort of life or death decision. Alice, assuming the former, can't help but laugh. Her brother doesn't typically exhibit such behavior. "It looks like he kind ofdoes, actually," Alice says. "I think he wants you to rescue him."

Bella bites her lip. "Yeah, right. Edward's a big boy. I think he can take care of himself."

"Seriously, Bella? Don't be ridiculous. Go over there!"

She doesn't. Bella wants to see how Edward reacts to the situation without her interference. She isn't about to flail around him like all of the other girls as Alice had mentioned. Her reaction upon first arriving was embarrassing enough, and Bella doesn't want Edward to enjoy any additional satisfaction from the inconsequential attraction she feels toward him.

Bella's apparent indifference is enough to drive Edward insane. As the bartender takes his time to retrieve the drinks, he continuously glances in Bella's direction. The woman next to him is still talking, but he isn't listening. And he isn't buying her drink.

"Where's your friend?" Bella asks as Edward returns.

He hands her a beer before taking a swig of his own. "I told her to wait for me in the alley."

Bella sighs. "Lovely."

"I'm kidding, Bella. Why, are you jealous?"

"No," she lies. "I prefer guys that shower, remember?"

He stares straight into her eyes. "Right. And I prefer girls who swallow, but that isn't going to stop me."

"Oh my God, seriously, Edward? I'm standing right here!" Alice covers her ears. He apologizes, and she turns to Bella. "No wonder my brother likes you so much. You're probably the only girl in Chicago that's too smart for his bullshit." Her grin is wide.

Edward's isn't, but for a slight moment his eyes are. They search for Bella's. He finds them gaping and focused intently on the gritty floor below. "Don't listen to my sister. She doesn't know what she's fucking talking about."

Full of skepticism, Bella looks up. Her voice is playfully confident as she crosses her arms. "You don't like me?"

"God, no."

The three of them are all very aware of Edward's lie, and Bella pretends to be unaffected by it. "Good, because I don't like you either."

"What, am I not good enough for your loose standards?"

"You think I'm loose?"

He shrugs. "Most whores usually are."

"Well, who would know better than you?"

Edward only grins; he doesn't argue. Bella smiles too, satisfied for having the last word... or so she thinks. Just before the lights dim and the band begins to play, Alice antagonizes them with one final statement.

"Wow. You two are perfect for each other."

The band begins, and everyone's attention turns to the stage.


	4. Dig my own grave

"Do you want to get out of here?"

The noise is so loud, so intense that Edward screams in Bella's ear, and even at that volume she barely hears him. Jasper's set is only two songs in, but Edward already wants to leave. It's not that he isn't having fun. He definitely enjoys watching his friend dance around the stage as if suffering from some sort of mental illness. But he'd rather be somewhere else: alone with Bella. He's itching to find a place where they can actually hear each other, among other things.

Bella glances at Alice. She's completely mesmerized by every beat. The band plays fast. Their sound is as captivating as the singer's stage presence, and it's like nothing Bella has ever seen. It's clear Alice feels the same way. Her eyes remain wide and glued to the stage.

Bella cups a hand around her mouth and leans in close to respond. "I don't know. It looks like your sister is having a good time."

Most of the girls Edward pursues would be quick to dismiss Alice as if she were a third wheel, but not Bella. The consideration she lends towards his little sister's feelings doesn't go unnoticed, and it only confirms Edward's previous insight into Bella's true colors. He slides his arm around her waist, pulling Bella close. It's a bold move, and closing the space between them is only something he can justify in an attempt to overcome the deafening volume. As much as Edward appreciates the thoughtfulness Bella lends toward Alice, allowing her to tag along isn't quite what he had in mind.

"I mean, I was hoping we could hit a bar or two, and Alice is too young to go with us anyway."

"We can't just leave her here alone."

Edward looks over at his sister and up at the stage. His concern is minimal. "She'll be okay."

"Well, can we at least stay for a few more songs?"

"Okay, sure."

His fingers skim the bottom of her t-shirt. The temptation to touch Bella has been weighing on his mind ever since she arrived, but the opportunity had yet to present itself until now. He makes the most of it; she doesn't seem to mind. Edward's hand lingers on Bella's waist as long as he can warrant, but only a few seconds go by before she steps away and all attention returns to the stage. The loss of contact leaves them both reeling.

Three songs pass, and soon after, Bella and Edward find themselves wandering into a nearby bar. It's far more quiet than the concert venue and much less crowded. They gravitate toward two open bar stools farthest from the other patrons, and Edward retrieves his debit card to open a tab. He orders a couple of shots. After she's ID'ed the generous bartender pours two glasses to the brim and slides one to Bella, one to Edward.

"Cheers," Edward says, and they drink.

The alcohol burns. Bella tries to mask her shudder. She isn't accustomed to taking shots straight but doesn't want Edward to think she can't handle a little liquor. Their empty glasses slam against the counter at the same time, and she pivots her chair to face his.

As if anticipating her movement, Edward's hand steadies on the skintight denim of Bella's upper thigh. They're close. His fingertips feel like fire against clothed skin, and Bella can't help but wonder how those fingers might feel elsewhere. Edward's thoughts are on a similar track. He revels in the satisfaction of finally reestablishing physical contact, but it isn't enough; he wants more.

"I hope you know, it's going to take a few more shots to get me drunk enough to want to have sex with you."

"Is that right?" He shouts to the bartender, "Can I get four more shots?"

Bella gives Edward a knowing look. His motives are obvious, and she doesn't intend on doing anything to discourage him. As soon as the shots appears in front of them, they're gone. Bella leans back and waits for the room to start spinning. Edward asks for a beer.

"Your friend's band is pretty awesome," she tells him. "Do you play shows too?"

Edward stifles a laugh. "No, not anymore. That's not really my scene."

"Right. I forgot. All the cool kids are taking to the streets these days."

"Whatever you say, Bella. Being a street performer is serious business. I have a license from the city and everything."

She gasps. "No way! Look at you, doing it by the book. You know, you'd probably get more chicks as a rock star."

"Are you sure? The mere fact that we're having this conversation suggests otherwise."

He leans closer. Antagonizing Bella has its advantages. She struggles to find a comeback, and her inability to argue only adds momentum to Edward's advance. His mischievous grin, partially masked by a week's worth of stubble, is all Bella can focus on with blurry sight. Her lip catches nervously between top and bottom teeth as Edward zeros in.

His kiss shows no restraint. Edward isn't holding back. There's no easing into it, no gentle pecking. Every brisk movement is an exertion of dominance, and Bella retaliates with vigor. Their lips clash with fervency and aggression; the intensity of which is only matched by Edward's strong hands as they beg to explore Bella's slender form.

She pulls away all too soon.

"Mmm... that was terrible."

He raises his eyebrows. "Terrible?"

"Like kissing steel wool." Her fingers drift momentarily from his neck to his cheek to emphasize her point. She proceeds to pull him in for another. This time Edward allows Bella to lead, and the kiss is far more gentle than the last.

"If you don't like it, maybe you should have chosen another guy to take home tonight."

"If only you had introduced me to your hot rock star friend, I might have."

She's only trying to antagonize him, and does so rather successfully. The expression on Edward's face turns sour, and Bella concludes it must be a sore subject.

"Too bad he has a girlfriend," Edward mutters.

"I like your scruff. It's sexy." Her nails drag across Edward's skin. "And besides, I'm going home with you tonight—not the other way around."

He rolls his eyes. "What difference does it make?"

"I don't bring guys back to my apartment."

"You don't?"

"I just don't think it's safe. I mean, most of the guys I hook up with are strangers. They're people whom I have no intention of ever seeing again, so I definitely don't want them to know where to find me."

"You have got to be kidding me. But I already know where you live."

"Not true. You know where my apartment building is, not which unit is mine."

"Close enough." He rolls his eyes. "How many times do I have to say it? If I were going to murder you, I'd have done it by now."

"Right. I remember. And if you weren't really homeless, it wouldn't matter so much who's apartment we went to, would it?"

He chuckles. "Is that what you think?"

Her lips graze his. She whispers seductively against them, "There's only one way to prove me wrong."

"If you insist."

After one final round of shots, the two stumble onto the street. They're completely wasted. Edward started drinking long before Bella arrived at the venue, and four shots in quick succession were no match for her empty stomach. She can't even walk straight without assistance, but Edward doesn't seem to mind. He can't keep his hands—or his lips—to himself.

Between the booze and the distraction, it's a wonder Edward can even navigate to the correct metro line. He's completely oblivious to the world around him. The entire station could be crowded with commuters, and neither he nor Bella would notice. It's not. Most of the transit system has already shut down for the evening, and very few travelers remain. Those who do gawk at their drunken spectacle.

Bella and Edward don't seem to mind. As they wait for a northbound train their kisses only grow more intense. Both continuously push the envelope further. He pins her against one of the concrete support beams, pressing every inch of his body against hers. The contact leaves little to the imagination. Bella can feel every bit of what Edward has to offer, and it's more than enough to satisfy. Her hips rock against his.

The two practically fall into a vacant train car. Their make out session quickly resumes. Edward is incessant as ever; a week's worth of sexual frustration has taken quite a toll on his self control. Normally he doesn't bring girls back to the apartment, but for Bella he's willing to make an exception. He can't resist the temptation to prove her ridiculous homeless theory wrong. Or maybe he could, if only she would stop running her fingers along his waistband.

By some miracle they manage to complete the first leg of their journey without undressing each other. Walking from the station to Edward's apartment is a separate challenge alltogether, with Bella's equilibrium causing a major roadblock. She stumbles even with Edward's support. Bella insists to him that she is not as drunk as she appears. The clumsiness is inherent. And while that might be true, Edward knows better. He carries her on his back for over a block until they reach a shoddy apartment complex. After struggling up two flights of stairs, they finally arrive at apartment 307.

The apartment is tiny. It's dark; the only illumination comes from its windows and the residual glow of the streetlamps below. Bella doesn't see the dishes that lie in the sink or the dirty laundry strewn in between the apartment's only bedroom and bathroom.

Empty beer cans provide a centerpiece for every flat surface. If the lights were on, she might notice the mismatched furniture and that the couch is actually a futon. Edward doesn't bother giving her a grand tour, but he does lock the deadbolt behind them.

Needless to say, it isn't exactly a place to write home about.

"Home sweet home," Bella says. Edward eases her off his back.

"Yeah. Something like that."

He turns to face her. Leaving the bar seems so long ago. Their heightened anticipation for the moment has almost made it awkward, and Edward isn't sure how to proceed. Bella's head still spins from the alcohol, and to a lesser extent so does his. As the male Edward feels an obligation to offer Bella an out before proceeding.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks. His voice is quiet.

Bella laughs. "What, did the walk back wear you out?"

"Not really." He rephrases his question. "Are you sure you're not too drunk?"

"Are you joking?" Edward's sudden development of a conscience catches Bella by surprise. Most guys don't ask, and she knows very well what kind of situation she's gotten herself into. She playfully dismisses his concern. "Are _you_ too drunk? I'm not, like, stealing your virtue am I?"

Bella's hands drift to Edward's collar, and she begins to undo each of the buttons on his shirt. He presses his lips to hers, and it feels different this time. Intimate. It feels right. The feeling isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it is something neither of them are accustomed to.

Things don't progress as quickly as one might expect. Their pace is set by the intensity of each kiss. As they stand in the entry way, clothes are discarded one by one. Edward's shirt is the first to go, and Bella's follows. His hands graze across bare skin to the clasp of her bra.

Edward's eyes have adjusted enough so that even in the faint light, he's able to marvel at Bella. Never in his life can he recall being so turned on by a woman's body, and she isn't even completely undressed yet. A flood of emotions cloud Edward's mind. He's embarrassed for having brought Bella back to such a shady apartment, ashamed for the act they're about to commit.

And furious as he realizes Bella has consented to this many times before.

Then again so has he. Edward knows he's being hypocritical. He isn't the type to get overly invested in a girl, especially in the moments leading up to sex. It makes him edgy. He begins to wonder if Bella views him differently; if this will be a night to remember or just another one night stand. He's never been given a reason to doubt his performance in the bedroom, nor has he ever really cared about making it exceptionally memorable for the girl... until tonight.

Edward pushes all of the ridiculous thoughts from his mind. He dismisses his feelings, blaming the alcohol for his runaway stream of consciousness. All attention focuses on Bella, and her body proves to be an excellent distraction. Kisses trail from mouth to neck. His thumb brushes over her nipple, causing her entire body to shiver.

Bella is completely enthralled by Edward. It's been a while since she's found herself in any sort of sexual situation, and she attributes her heightened arousal to the dry spell. She tells herself it has nothing to do with the way Edward kisses, or the way his hands feel as they massage her breasts.

Or the size of his penis.

He kicks off his sneakers. Jeans fall to the ground. Socks fly across the room. Edward sports an obvious erection, masked only by the thin fabric of his last remaining article of clothing. Bella spares no shame in touching him. Her hand drifts below the waistband of his boxers, and she wraps her slender fingers around his girth. The contact makes Edward go weak in the knees.

She can't resist taking a stab at his ego. "It all makes sense now. You're too small to be a rock star, aren't you?"

He grins, impervious to the insult. His hand slides into Bella's jeans, and Edward touches her for the first time. She's soaked. He pushes two fingers as deep as they will go. "I doubt size makes a difference when it comes to a girl this loose."

Edward and Bella know exactly how to get a rise from each other. The rest of their clothing is off within a matter of seconds. He carries Bella not to the bedroom, but only a few feet to the makeshift living room sofa. The futon quickly converts from seat to bed, and they collapse onto its dilapidated cushion.

She touches him again. Bella wraps her hand around Edward's hardness, and with a tight grip she begins to tug. Edward groans. It feels good, maybe a little too good. He's waited long enough to be inside Bella, and if they don't stop with the foreplay soon, he'll either lose his mind—or his load.

To make matters worse Edward realizes he's forgotten the condom in his wallet. Never before has he gone bare with a girl, but in the heat of the moment he considers making an exception. He knows she's clean. And on birth control. The tip of his penis grazes her entrance, and it feels better than he could have ever imagined. He sighs. For Bella he _would_ make an exception, if not for her previous insistence that she never allows a guy to go without. He doesn't even bother to ask.

"Fucking condom, " he mutters, dragging himself from the futon.

Bella watches as Edward stalks across the room in search of his discarded jeans. In only a matter of seconds he returns, foil packet in hand. She stares as he tosses the wrapper somewhere onto the floor. He rolls the thin shield of rubber onto his shaft before sliding back into bed.

Bella is enamored by Edward's kisses as he finally pushes into her. His first thrusts are slow and gentle. It's not at all what she expects, but not necessarily a bad thing either. Most of the guys Bella goes home with aren't big on taking their time. It's always more about fucking, less about intimacy. As good as it feels to be adored, it's also a little overkill.

She breaks away from his lips. "This is just sex, right?"

His hips still. The expression on Edward's face is that of perplexity. Of course he knows it's just sex. Both had made their intentions clear on several occasions. What else would it be? He isn't sure how to respond, or why the question bothers him so much.

Bella bites her lip. She refuses to make eye contact, worried by what she might see. It wasn't her intention to lead him on, nor does she want him to stop. Her eyes close and she lets out a sigh. Edward still hasn't said a word. She presses her lips, and her hips, into his.

"You feel so good," she tells him, and for once she actually means it. Likewise Bella assumes that girls tell Edward the same all of the time, and they do. The assumed fact makes her feel like an idiot for thinking he might feel differently about her.

His voice shows no emotion. "You know, if you wanted me to fuck you harder, all you had to do was say so."

Edward's pace increases until he's slamming into her. It's just sex. On that they can agree. The longer it continues, the better they feel. The intensity compounds until she comes undone, and Edward finds pleasure in the way she says his name through clenched teeth. In a matter of moments his own orgasm consumes him. It leaves him elated and exhausted, but he's hardly satiated. If anything he finds her even more captivating than before.

"Can I crash here tonight?"

Edward waivers. He reaches to turn on a lamp before responding. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. My wife will probably be home any minute."

Bella's eyes go wide. She starts to panic. "You're _married_?!"

He doesn't even attempt to keep his face straight. A stifled laugh escapes from the back of Edward's throat. "God no. Jesus, Bella. Are you always so gullible?"

"Are you always such an asshole?"

He smirks. "Yes."

"I should go." She starts to get up, but Edward grabs her by the arm.

"No, you shouldn't. You're in no condition to walk home."

"Really, Edward. I'll be fine."

"Bella, there is no way I'm letting you leave this apartment tonight. I'll take you home first thing in the morning, I promise."

"Fine." She adds, "But I swear to god, Edward, if I find out you're lying about being married—"

"I am not, nor have I ever been married." He maintains eye contact the entire time, even if Bella doesn't. "Look around, sweetheart. It's pretty obvious this place hasn't seen the presence of a female in quite some time."

"You have a point there, but whatever. This probably isn't even your apartment anyway, Hobo." She giggles, making it clear that there's still a fair amount of alcohol in her system.

"Goodnight, Bella." Edward's voice is stern.

He presses his lips to her forehead for one final goodnight kiss. It seems less intimate than kissing her lips. Bella falls asleep quickly, and without further argument. Edward covers her haphazardly with a blanket before peeling himself away to smoke and shower. There's a lump at the back of his throat that he can't seem to get rid of, even after a few more beers. The same words repeat in his head over and over again.

_It's just sex. _


	5. though it's shallow

When Bella awakes on Saturday morning, it takes her a few moments to remember exactly where she fell asleep. Cold sweat drenches her body. It isn't her sweat, but Edward's, as his naked form is pressed flush against hers. Blinding light pours in from the curtainless windows, and it does little for her massive hangover. Her head pounds, and for a moment Bella worries she might be sick. Very gradually the room comes into focus.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

Her eyes go wide. It isn't Edward saying the words, but the handsome musician she saw on stage last night. He's sitting on the recliner a few feet away, eating a bowl of cereal as if the sight of a naked woman in his living room is nothing out of the ordinary. She scrambles to cover herself with the blanket. Edward stirs in the process.

"Oh my god." Bella's words are frantic.

Jasper smirks. "Oh, sorry. Where are my manners? Make yourself at home. There are more Lucky Charms in the kitchen."

She turns to Edward and realizes why they never retreated to a bedroom last night. "This really _isn't_ your apartment, is it?"

His friend laughs. "He told you this was his apartment?"

Bella is up and gathering her things before Edward has an opportunity to respond. She takes the blanket with her, leaving Edward fully exposed in the process. Bella doesn't care. She's focused on getting dressed and getting out. Never before has she been so humiliated. It leaves her unable to form rational thoughts.

"The fuck, Jasper?" Edward's words are noise as he chases Bella around the apartment. "Wait!" he begs.

Jasper holds out a hand to shield his eyes. "Dude, put on some fucking boxers!"

He's already in the process. "Bella, please. Just wait a second. I can explain."

Edward's voice is desperate. He knows their time together is coming to an end, and not at all in the way he had anticipated. Bella is already fully dressed. Edward is not. Her hand lingers on the doorknob as she turns to face him one final time. "Don't even bother," she seethes, opening the door and slamming it behind her.

"Goddammit, Jas!" Edward buttons his jeans. He pulls a random shirt over his head, forces on a pair of shoes, and storms out the door.

Bella is running as soon as her feet hit the pavement. A head start is imperative as she knows Edward is following. The area around her is unfamiliar, and pure luck points her in the direction of the subway. She's half a block from its entrance by the time Edward makes his appearance on the street.

He pursues her relentlessly. Bella enters the metro station without the slighest idea of how to get back to her apartment. She doesn't lend herself the time to figure it out. In the distance she can hear a train approaching. Without having any idea of where it's heading, she rushes to catch it. The space between her and Edward is closing fast, and she knows she must disappear quickly in order to avoid him.

Edward arrives on the platform just as the automatic doors begin to close. If only he had been a few seconds sooner, he would have caught the train. His fist beats against the full car as it begins to move. To make matters worse he knows she's going the wrong direction.

Like his guitar, Bella is gone and he has no way to follow. Having no cell phone and no wallet, he returns to his friend's apartment, downtrodden, humiliated, and completely livid.

"What the fuck was that for?" Edward demands of his friend. If it had been any other girl, he would have laughed. But it isn't funny; he's furious.

Jasper grins. He mimics the voice of a stern father. "Now, son, what have I told you about bringing girls home?"

"Fuck you," he spits. "I thought you were spending the night at your girlfriend's house."

"I did stay at my girlfriend's house," he explains. "But it's almost noon. I have important shit to do. I can't just sleep all day like you do."

Edward lights up a cigarette. "Yeah, yeah. You're such a sell out." He continuously dials Bella's cell phone number. It goes straight to voicemail every time.

"I don't understand why you're so pissed. I saved you from an awkward goodbye."

"You don't think that was awkward?"

Realization dawns on Edward's friend. "Holy shit. You actually fucking like this chick, don't you?"

Edward slams his phone down on the coffee table. He's only half paying attention. "I don't know."

"She's hot. Small rack, but still hot." He wiggles his eyebrows. "Perky."

Edward's fists ball. "Erase that image from your head before I do it for you."

"Whoa, calm down, dude. Sorry. I didn't realize it was something serious."

He's quick to counter. "It's not. Just... shut the fuck up, okay?"

Edward rubs his temple. He closes his eyes. Last night isn't a blur, though he almost wishes it were. His brain picks apart every touch. It replays every interaction, from drinking at the bar to Bella's insistence that their time together meant nothing. Edward knew exactly what he was getting himself into. His intention had been to scratch an itch. He only wanted to get the thought of being with Bella out of his head. But he knows now his plan has backfired, and in the worst of ways. Already he misses her. Being unfamiliar with the area, he's worried she might not find her way home.

And absolutely terrified she'll never find a way back to him.

"I guess it's true what they say," Edward sighs. "You always want what you can't have."

Bella's ride home takes almost an hour. For forty-five minutes she endures the stares of strangers, never before having been so embarrassed in her life. She wonders if they can sense her shame. Bella reeks of alcohol and sex. Her hair is a nightmare, and tears threaten to spill from her eyes with every avoided call and text message.

Eventually she turns off her phone. It's easier that way. She's more confused about Edward than ever, and though his messages beg for the opportunity to provide an explanation, Bella is convinced that time away is the only way to achieve clarity.

The sex had definitely been more than she bargained for. Bella's experience with one night stands is vast, but they're all very much the same. Get drunk, fuck senseless, pass out. She hadn't expected last night to be any different, but never before had sex felt so pleasurable. Edward was quite the affectionate lover; ex-boyfriends didn't even compare. Being with him felt right.

And, at the same time, so wrong.

A certain amount of shame comes with sleeping around. Many times Bella has woken up in strange places with even stranger men and thought little of it. She's always been able to disconnect herself, even on mornings when her recollection of the night before escapes her. She's mastered the art of leaving the scene gracefully and does so many times undetected. This morning had been anything but.

She's absolutely mortified. It's bad enough having just fucked a homeless man in someone else's apartment. But to have the owner of said apartment treat her so nonchalantly, as if it wasn't anything out of the ordinary... as if it happens all the time. Never before has she felt like such a whore.

The type of girl that Edward is undoubtedly very familiar with.

With that in mind, Bella realizes it's pointless to put too much thought into their time together. To Edward, women are interchangeable. Had it not been Bella in his arms last night, it would have been someone else. She's convinced his touches meant nothing; that they're all a part of the charming act that makes Edward so appealing to the opposite sex. Still, she can't fight the tinge of jealousy that threatens to consume her when she considers every other girl who has been in the same position.

It all makes Bella's head hurt—not that it didn't already. Tylenol does little to ease her hangover. She attempts to distract herself by staying busy, but household chores only occupy so much time. Bella turns to work, spending hours curled up in bed with her laptop. She gets little accomplished, and eventually her eyelids grow heavy. Bella finds sleep easily, but as she drifts off her thoughts are of Edward and how she wishes things had gone differently.

A few hours later she is awoken by a thunderous pounding on her front door. It's already dark outside, and Bella has no idea who could possibly want anything from her—especially at nine o'clock at night. After all, she hardly knows anyone in Chicago outside of her co-workers, none of whom have ever been to her apartment. The only other person that comes to mind is Edward, but unless he's gone door to door in search of the correct unit, having him show up seems unlikely as well. Her mind drifts to a recent crime report on the television and break-ins being on the rise.

It's against better judgement when the twenty-three year old woman, clad in sleep shorts and a tank top, unlocks her deadbolt and cracks open the door. In the hallway she sees a man with worried eyes and chaotic hair. He looks as though he's been through hell.

"Jesus Christ, Edward! You scared the shit out of me."

"I could say the same. I've been standing out here for the past ten minutes."

"What are you doing here anyway? How did you—"

He holds up Bella's drivers license. "This, along with my debit card, was left at the bar last night."

"Oh, thank god." She snatches the ID from him. "For a second I thought you were here to talk about this morning."

"Well, now that you mention it."

"Goodbye, Edward," she sighs.

"Bella, wait!" He wedges his foot in the doorframe, rendering her unable to shut him out. "Just give me one minute. At the very least I owe you an apology."

"Fine." She opens the door and gestures him inside. "But make it quick. My son is due home any minute."

Edward fails at masking his shock and horror. "You have a kid?"

She smirks. "Fuck no. I hate kids. That was revenge for your little joke about being married."

"I suppose I shouldn't introduce you to mine then." His words hang in the air. "Just kidding," he finally adds.

The layout of Bella's apartment isn't much different than that of Edward's friend. She is, however, quite a bit better at upkeep. The furniture is new, purchased by Bella's father as a graduation gift. It isn't fancy or expensive, but it is kept in pristine condition. There are no empty beer cans lining the coffee table, and clutter is kept to a minimum. Edward observes that the apartment looks more like an Ikea showroom display than a place that's actually being lived in. He assumes that she's either never home or takes very good care of her things. In reality it's a bit of both.

"You have a cat," he observes. "Why am I not surprised?"

Bella moves her furry companion off of the couch and onto the carpet. She had gotten him shortly after moving to Chicago as a way to ease the loneliness that accompanies living so far away from home. "Let me guess. You hate cats."

"Despise them. No wonder you're perpetually single."

"You're homeless," she concludes, steering them back on track. As much as Bella doesn't want to confront the situation, she does want answers. He takes a seat on the couch. Bella does the same, keeping a fair amount of distance between them.

"Not really." He clarifies, "Jasper's been letting me stay at his place for the past couple of months."

"And before that?" she asks.

"I had a place." He doesn't elaborate. "Look, Bella, I owe you an apology. I should have never taken you back to the apartment. At the very least I should have been honest about my situation. You were drunk and in no condition to—"

She interrupts, insisting, "Drunk or not, I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. Or, at least, I thought I did."

"I'm so sorry." Edward bites his tongue, albeit unsuccessfully. "Are you always that drunk when you go home with guys?"

"Are the girls you go home with always that drunk?" she counters.

"I've never made a girl do something she'd regret, if that's what you're implying."

"Sure you haven't." Bella knows if Edward is anything like the guys she's encountered, he's lying.

"The girls I hook up with know exactly what they're getting themselves into," he insists.

"Yeah, and so do I." Her eyes shift to the floor, and Edward assumes she's leaving something unsaid.

"Bella…"

She interrupts. "Can we change the subject please? I really don't see how this is any of your business."

"It's not my business." He grips the back of his neck. Edward feels edgy and even slightly nervous. "But, I don't know. I was thinking maybe we could at least be friends."

"Right. I'm not sure how that would work out. I'm not a good friend for you."

"Why not?"

"Last night, for one. Friends don't do that."

"Some do," he hedges.

"What are you suggesting?" She isn't sure why she asks. Bella knows exactly what Edward has in mind.

"Fuck, I don't know. We could just, like, let things happen."

She doesn't even take time to consider his proposal. "I really don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"One of us is going to get hurt eventually."

"Well, it's not going to be me," Edward insists.

"You're right. It'll probably be me. I'll get too involved, and eventually you'll meet someone else. See why I don't want to do that?"

She only says it to scare him, but it's true. Bella has a history of getting too attached. Like with work, she's incapable of doing something half-assed. To make matters worse her relationships always end the same way. Mike cheated. So did Paul. Her last boyfriend put an engagement ring on her finger, but the wedding was quickly called off when Bella came home from class early to find him in bed with someone else. By eliminating relationships, she eliminates the risk. She's learned to separate emotion from sex, and the system she's established works… or at least it did until Edward came along.

"Bella, I haven't had a fucking girlfriend since I was a sophomore in high school. Why would I decide I want one now?"

"But what if I want that eventually?"

Edward raises his eyebrow. "A girlfriend?"

"You're such an asshole. You know exactly what I mean."

"Do you want that?" he asks, swallowing. "From me?"

She answers quickly. "Hell no."

"Then I don't see it becoming a problem."

"So, what, when you can't find a girl to suck your dick, you're going to expect it from me?"

"I thought you didn't suck dick."

"I said I didn't swallow, but I'm pretty sure there are plenty of other girls in Chicago who will do both."

"The fuck would I need another girl for as long as I have you?"

"And what if I decide to hook up with someone else?"

Bella poses the question, though she isn't sure why she'd want to. Sex is sex, and this morning already had her reassessing the way she approaches one night stands. Bella is lonely. She can't deny that. It would be nice to have someone, at the very least a friend. And being with Edward would be easy; last night proved that.

Edward keeps his jaw tense. He's reluctant to show Bella any emotion, fearful that telling the truth would only encourage promiscuity to spite him. The fact of the matter is that Edward would do everything in his power to stop Bella from going home with another man. The mere idea makes him sick to his stomach. It's the main reason he's concocted this ridiculous proposal; as long as Edward is meeting Bella's needs, he sees no reason for her to look elsewhere. She stays safe. He keeps his peace of mind.

"I wouldn't be able to stop you."

Bella inches closer to Edward. "And if I say no?"

"Are you saying no?"

She straddles him. "What's in this for you, anyway?"

His hands instinctively move to her thighs. He grinds against her to solidify his point. "Aside from the obvious?"

"But why me?" Bella asks. She removes her top.

Edward closes the distance between them by bringing his lips to Bella's. His kisses are soft and sensual. They're nothing like the frenzied ones from the night before. Both Bella and Edward have a clear head. Alcohol isn't inhibiting anyone's judgement, though Bella is so nervous she wishes for a drink. It's been a long time since she's messed around sober, and the same holds true for Edward.

"We could be good together," he whispers as clothes are shed, leaving Bella to interpret his words in whatever way she pleases.


	6. I would lie in it

Bella's life is plagued by awkward moments.

It seems as though this has been especially true since meeting Edward. From tripping on the subway platform to their humiliating morning in Jasper's apartment, every one of their encounters has been tinged with incorrect assumptions and embarrassing misunderstandings. As she stares into his eyes from atop of his naked form, unsure of what to say in the aftermath of their most recent sexual encounter, she accepts the fact that there's likely no end in sight.

She says nothing. Edward groans as she slips away. "You're getting dressed already?"

"Well excuse me for being just a little self-conscious," she mutters.

He smirks. "You didn't act very self conscious half an hour ago."

"Half an hour?" Bella snickers. She can't resist calling him out. "That's being a little generous, don't you think?"

"What are you implying?"

"Oh, Edward, I think you know exactly what I'm implying."

A hint of embarrassment flashes across Edward's face. He was hoping she hadn't noticed. Edward doesn't typically fall short in the bedroom, but Bella catching him by surprise did a number on his stamina. Still, he didn't see his performance as _that_ big of a letdown. After all it had been Bella's over-the-top orgasm that sent him over the edge.

He concentrates on removing the spent condom and defends himself to the best of his ability. "A beautiful woman just attacked me in her living room. What did you expect to happen?"

"I _expected_ a stronger argument as to why I should consider your friends with benefits proposal." She tosses him his boxers. "Get dressed, buddy. I'm starving. Feel like going to get something to eat?"

He does, and they quickly decide on pizza. It's Chicago, afterall, and Bella can never justify ordering an entire deep dish for herself. They debate momentarily between carry-out and sitting down somewhere, but when Edward discovers that Bella has never been to Meyers he quickly changes his tune. The pizzeria is one of Edward's favorites, and it just so happens to be within walking distance of Bella's apartment. They arrive at their destination in no time at all.

There's a major league baseball game in progress nearby, and Meyers is packed. The atmosphere is what makes the place so great—or at least that's what Edward tells Bella. It's just like any other restaurant to her, but to Edward this place means the world. His dad used to bring him here before every game, and every booth is crammed full of nostalgia. He tells her so.

As the two wait in line to order, Edward catches the eye of a young waitress. He's too busy rambling to Bella about his fifth birthday party to notice, but Bella, only half paying attention to Edward's story, definitely does. Something ignites inside of her. She begins to feel possessive over her friend, and without even considering the consequences, Bella locks her fingers with his. Edward pauses mid-sentence.

Though the touch is juvenile, it catches Edward by surprise. Instinctively he flinches. His eyes go wide, and Bella assumes she's overstepped whatever boundary they've set. She sees his discomfort and pulls her hand back almost immediately. Edward is left reeling from the contact. He could kick himself; it wasn't his intention to make Bella retract. He momentarily considers reaching for her hand, but decides against further contact.

Their hearts pound. "I still can't believe you've never been here before," he says, as if resuming their conversation will make things any less awkward.

They argue for five minutes over pizza toppings.

There's no compromising. Every suggestion is disgusting to the other. Bella and Edward finally settle for splitting the pie in half. As with their first dinner out, Bella requests practically every vegetable on the menu. Edward sticks to the basics—pepperoni and sausage. They order everything up front, and when Edward pulls out his debit card to pay, he initiates yet another disagreement.

"Bella, I'm not going to _not_ pay for your meal," he insists. They slide into the restaurant's only empty booth. "Not after, well, you know."

"So now we're trading off? Sex for goods? No way. That's crossing the line."

Edward looks around, worried that other patrons may have overheard. Luckily everyone seems engaged in their own conversations. His voice is hushed. "For fuck's sake, Bella. It's pizza."

"I don't care. We still need some sort of ground rules."

"Ground rules," Edward repeats. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Well, obviously you didn't like it when I held your hand earlier."

"It's not that I didn't like it," he insists. "It just caught me off guard, that's all."

"Right. Whatever. So PDA in public: yes or no?"

"Yes," Edward answers a little too quickly. "No. Fuck, I don't know."

"And when we're out together, I'll pay for my own meals." She doesn't leave it open for debate.

"Am I allowed to spend the night?"

She gasps. "Is that what this is about? Are you using me for my bedroom?"

"If that were the case, I'm pretty sure we'd actually have to make it to the bedroom."

Bella's face reddens. "Right. Okay. So you can spend the night, but only on the weekend."

"Seriously? What is this, middle school?"

Her eyebrow raises. "Were you having sex in middle school?"

"Only with my chemistry teacher."

It takes a few seconds for Bella to decide whether she believes him or not. "You're lying," she says finally.

"You're right." He smirks. "I definitely thought about it though."

"Whatever," she sighs. "What's next?"

"How do you feel about anal?" he asks casually, as if talking about something as trivial as the weather.

Bella's words catch in her throat. "Are you serious?"

He shrugs. "You know what? Fuck ground rules. We don't have to decide everything today."

Before Bella can respond, the pizza comes. It's a relief. Not only is Bella starving, she's also extremely uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation. She wonders what kind of a girl he thinks she is. Does he assume she does that? And more importantly, does he do that? Bella isn't sure she wants to know the answer to either of her questions, nor does she allow her mind to wander. Would she do that? With Edward?

Bella isn't the only one grateful for the interruption. Edward is frustrated with himself for even joking about something so taboo. It wasn't his intention to make Bella feel uncomfortable. He knows he overstepped, and it's obvious she got the wrong idea. It was only a joke. Or was it? Edward's never done anything like that before. One night stands don't exactly leave room for experimentation, but he's willing to admit it's always been a fantasy.

"You know, I've noticed something," Bella finally says, pulling Edward from his thoughts.

His mouth is full. "Hmm?"

"You seem to know a lot about me, but I don't really know anything about you. That seems kind of unfair, doesn't it?"

He swallows. "I do?"

"Hell, I don't even know your last name. Meanwhile you've probably memorized every last bit of information on my driver's license."

His face is very serious. "I had to. It's only a matter of time before you go home with the wrong hobo. Who do you think is going to fill out the missing persons report?"

"Wow. Such a good alibi." She smirks. "The caring friend who swears if he were going to kill me, he would have already done it by now."

He winks. "Exactly."

"They'll never suspect a thing." She rolls her eyes. "You know, maybe prison won't be so bad. I mean, if you like anal. I hear they're into that there."

"Fuck that." He pulls the wallet out of his back pocket, slides out his identification and throws it across the table. "There. Are we even now?"

"Edward Anthony Masen." She studies the picture of a well groomed, short-haired Edward. The collar of his black polo is barely visible at the bottom of the photo. He doesn't even look like the same person. "Are you sure this is you?"

"Like what you see?"

"A douchebag?" she teases. "No, not particularly."

"Whatever," he argues. "You think I'm hot."

She does. As much as Bella likes Edward's scruff, she wouldn't be opposed to seeing him freshly showered and clean shaven. The way he looks now suits him, though, and she assumes he won't be reverting to his former self any time soon.

Bella can't deny the attraction she feels toward Edward. She doesn't even try. It's obvious by the way she blushes from across the table and after dinner when she suggests they watch a movie at her apartment. They spend the rest of the weekend together; Edward grinds Bella's nerves, and Bella grinds, well, other things. It isn't until Sunday evening that he reluctantly returns to Jasper's apartment, respecting her request to spend work nights alone.

Neither worry about when they'll see the other again. Edward assures Bella she'll be seeing him on the platform, new guitar in hand, very soon. And sure enough Edward is there. She sees him Monday morning during rush hour and again on Tuesday afternoon. They don't speak; Edward has a living to make, and Bella doesn't want to interfere. In the same manner Edward doesn't distract Bella from her own career. He notices she works late often, and they've yet to have a repeat of their weekend rendezvous.

By Thursday they've established a routine: one that starts in the morning with nothing more than eye contact and a smile, and ends with a phone call before bed. Edward is usually the one to call Bella, and it's usually over something trivial. He finds any excuse he can to hear her voice. She doesn't mind; the only thing Bella enjoys more than talking dirty with Edward is seeing him play on the subway platform.

His performances are always stellar.

Thursday afternoon is particularly trying for Bella. Her workload is already heavy when Jacob barges into her office to explain his predicament. He's been trying to win over a new client for weeks to no avail, but they've finally come around and presented him with a last minute invitation to play golf. It seems too promising to refuse, and as far as Jacob's concerned, even in the worst case scenario it's an afternoon away from the office.

Unfortunately in order to woo the potential client, he must skip an important meeting with another. Jacob doesn't worry. He knows he can trust Bella to carry out his responsibilities at the office. But Bella has her own duties, and the boss's definitely aren't a part of her job description. He takes advantage of Bella's inability to say no and emails her a last minute list of talking points before leaving the office without giving her a second thought.

Bella scrambles to mentally prepare herself for the meeting with the Cullen Foundation. Impressing Jacob becomes her number one priority. She pushes all other work aside, and when her phone vibrates with an incoming call from Edward, it's ignored. She doesn't have time for flirtatious banter. The Cullen doctors are due to arrive any minute, and when they do, Embry & Black's administrative assistant quickly shuffles them into the conference room where Bella awaits.

Her eyes first land on the younger Doctor Cullen. Fresh out of med school, Emmett Cullen looks less like an oncologist and more like an underwear model. Most women would fall to his feet—or onto their knees, as he would prefer it—but not Bella. She's too preoccupied with maintaining professionalism to even notice his attraction. She does, however, take note of the way he devours her as if she were a piece of meat.

"Hi, how are you? I'm Doctor Cullen," he says, emphasis on the doctor part.

"It's nice to meet you," she says.

"You weren't quite whom we were expecting." The older doctor's demeanor is slightly more professional.

"Yes, well, Mister Black had something come up," Bella explains. "He sends his apologies."

"Are you his secretary?" Emmett asks. He'd rather ask outright if they're fucking but assumes if the former is true, so is the latter.

Bella laughs. "Oh, no," she says, holding out her hand. "I'm the primary executive assigned to your account, Isabella Swan."

Emmett's eyes light up. His voice is suave. "I could say the same. I'd rather we conduct all of our meetings with beautiful women."

"Emmett," his father scolds. "I'm sorry, my son is a bit of a ladies' man. I suppose I've rubbed off on him over the years."

Bella, clearly embarrassed, attempts to steer the conversation back on track. "In more ways than one, I can see. Are all of the men in your family doctors?"

"It depends on how you define family," Emmett explains. "But yes. I knew from a very early age that I wanted to follow my father into medicine."

"My father was a doctor as well," Carlisle says. "It's to be expected of the men in our family. We have achieved great success, and we love to help people."

"And the charity is an excellent way to do so," Bella gathers.

"Exactly."

The three take a seat at an oversized conference table, and Bella immediately begins to tackle the topics on Jacob's outline. The meeting quickly progresses, and as it does Bella's discomfort with the younger Doctor Cullen increases. More than once she notices as his hands fidget under the table. He's constantly adjusting himself. Emmett isn't nearly as subtle as he believes or, as Bella concludes, maybe he doesn't care. Either way it's obvious as to why the Cullen Foundation is in need of public relations. While Carlisle Cullen conducts himself in a mostly professional manner, Emmett does not. She makes a mental note to check through the company's database, curious to see how many times he's been rescued from bad press.

"So, that should wrap it up," Bella finally says. The meeting lasted a little over an hour and a half, and all she can think about is escaping the conference room. Her mind keeps drifting to Edward. Bella intends on calling him as soon as she gets back to the office. Her nerves are shot, and she hopes he's in the mood to blow off some steam.

"Excellent," Dr. Carlisle Cullen says. "I'm very optimistic about the benefit. You've assured me that we are in very good hands."

"Absolutely," Emmett echos. "The best."

Bella stands and extends her hand to each of the men. Emmett's grip is firm, but she's more apt to notice the ring on his other hand. She's even more disgusted than before; he could have at least taken it off. Men like Emmett do not amuse Bella in the slightest, and she's not the least bit excited to see him again when he steps into her office unaccompanied a few minutes later.

"Did you need something else?" she asks, setting down her cell phone. Edward didn't answer, but Bella assumes it's because he's playing underground somewhere.

Emmett looks around her office, gathering his confidence. "I have a condo downtown," he says. "It has a great view of the city, if you ever wanted to stop by."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Bella asks, all professionalism aside. "And how would your wife feel about me 'stopping by'?"

He chuckles. "Bella, my marriage is a convenience."

"And so is your PR agent, apparently," she quips. Emmett might be handsome, but his sense of entitlement is not attractive at all. It's obvious from his excess of nerve that he's used to getting whatever he wants, and the longer Bella stares at him, the more she finds him utterly repulsive. "Are you trying to get me fired?" she whispers.

"Of course not," he mimics her tone. "This can be our little secret."

"Or not." She shudders. "Sorry. I don't date my clients."

"I wasn't asking for a date." He smirks.

"I don't have time for this," she seethes. "So, please, get out of my office."

Emmett complies, but he's hardly deterred. He leaves her office fueled by the challenge, knowing it's likely she won't reject him forever. Why would she? He has it all: looks, charm, and most importantly money. What Emmett doesn't know is that Bella has Edward, and as long as that's the case, she's hardly interested in seeking romance elsewhere.

Bella tries to concentrate on the stack of folders splayed across her desk, but the more she dwells on Emmett's inappropriate request, the harder it is to focus. It doesn't exactly motivate her to know the cancer charity she's promoting is merely a front to make womanizing assholes feel better about themselves. The fact that they're exploiting other people's tragedies makes her sick, and knowing her father is dying from the exact same disease they're capitalizing on doesn't drive her to work harder.

She knows that Edward is the only person who could possibly understand the way she feels.

Every attempt to contact him is in vain. Her phone calls go straight to voicemail. Text messages remain unread. When the clock finally hits six, Bella gives up on accomplishing anything else at the office. She rushes to the subway feeling optimistic that Edward will be waiting, but as she approaches the platform, there's no music to be heard. Her eyes scan the platform. For the first time since the week began, Edward is nowhere to be found.

_Busy. I'll call you later._

His text message is vague. It comes in as Bella eats dinner alone. She doubts the same is true for Edward. He's probably out fucking around, she assumes. Even more worrisome to Bella is the possibility that he might be on an actual date. He's just like Emmett. All men are... or so she thinks. Discouraged, she sends Edward one final message before crawling into bed with a book.

_Don't bother. This isn't working out._

Across town Edward's fingers drift to the final notes of Clair de Lune. Tonight's gig was offered to him on short notice, but he's never one to turn down a performance. Edward typically plays upper class events—weddings, galas, benefits. And while Jasper would be quick to tease him for being such a piano nerd, Edward enjoys getting lost in the sound. He's mindless when he plays, usually able to forget about all that surrounds him. Though tonight is different. He thinks of Bella.

He'd called her earlier in the day to invite her along. It had taken him an hour to work up the courage, but when the call went straight to voicemail he lost his nerve. Around Bella, Edward is calm, cool, collected, but the fact of the matter is that she scares the shit out of him.

He isn't sure how he's able to keep up the front.

Edward pulls out his phone as soon as the performance is over. He expects a few missed text messages and maybe even a voicemail. He doesn't, however, expect to be broken up with—if it can even be called that—over text message. His heart falls into the pit of his stomach.

He doesn't reply.

Instead he goes straight to Bella's apartment, not even bothering to change clothes beforehand. The thirty-minute trip is excruciatingly long. It gives him plenty of time to mull things over. He wonders what he's doing; what he wants. Every feeling is foreign to him, and he isn't sure what it is about Bella that drives him so insane. In the beginning he blamed it on the challenge, and more recently, the convenience. Now he's confused again, and only one thing is certain.

He doesn't want it to be over.

"What do you want?" Bella mutters as she opens her door to a disheveled Edward. He wears black slacks with a white button-up shirt and tie, though the tie is loose and many of the buttons have been torn open. His hair is a mess. Every aspect of his appearance leads Bella to believe one thing. She's convinced he's been out with another girl.

Edward storms into the apartment, every profound statement he concocted in transit forgotten. "Do you mind telling me what's going on?"

She points to his clothes and begins the acquisitions. "I should ask you the same. Did you have a nice date? Get lucky? Apparently not if you're here, right?"

His eyes go wide. Hurt turns to anger. "What are you talking about, Bella?"

"You've been avoiding me all night!" Tears well in her eyes. She begins to cry.

"I've been _working_ all night!"

She pauses. "You were working?"

Edward can't help but laugh. "Does that surprise you?"

"But I didn't see you in the subway," she says.

"I wasn't working in the subway, sweetheart. I had a gig."

"A gig," she repeats. "You told me you didn't play shows."

He grins. "I don't play rock shows, Bella. I'm a freelance pianist."

"A pianist?" She snivels. "So... you didn't have a date?"

"No date," he says. "Now will you please calm down?"

"But that's even worse," she wails, launching herself into another fit of sobs. The unreasonable explanation that follows is almost inaudible. "I expect you to date. I may not like it, but I know it's bound to happen eventually."

"Bella—"

"Didn't you think maybe I wanted to go to your show? To see you actually play— and not just screw around in the subway?"

Edward nervously runs his hand through his hair. Bella's heightened level of emotion is nothing short of terrifying for the twenty-five year old male. He's dumbfounded. "I—"

"I've had such a shitty day," she sobs, throwing herself into Edward's arms. He pulls her close, unsure of any other way to diffuse the situation.

"I'm sorry," he says after a moment, guiding Bella to the sofa and pulling her onto his lap. He litters her cheek with soft wet kisses. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"I was swamped at work. My douche bag boss doubled my workload so he could goof off. I had to meet with the Cullen doctors alone, and it was obvious they didn't take me seriously at all. One of them hit on me and—"

Edward's entire body tenses. His interruption is harsh. "What?"

"He told me he had a condo downtown. That I should 'check out the view,' whatever that means."

"Please tell me you're joking," he seethes. Suddenly Edward is the one finding it difficult to keep his emotions in check. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him no! Obviously," she adds.

"What did this guy look like? Was he young? Old?"

"Young." She finally stops crying and even manages to laugh. "Why? Are you going to beat him up for me?"

"Want me to?"

"Not worth it." She kisses his cheek. "I was so passionate about what I was doing. Because my dad has cancer, you know? And I thought in some roundabout way, I was helping him. Or honoring him. But instead I'm confronted with how shitty human nature really is. It makes me sick."

"I know," Edward says. "It's not right." He runs his hand through Bella's hair, soothing her with a simple touch.

"I kept thinking that you were the only one who would understand. But you weren't here."

"I'm here now," he reminds her. "Though I have to warn you, I'm not allowed to spend the night."

She pulls back. "Says who?"

He shrugs. "It's in the rules."

"Screw the rules," she says. "Who said we needed rules?"


	7. We're down in the basement

"Edward has a girlfriend."

"Would you shut the fuck up already?"

"See? He doesn't even try to deny it."

Jasper grins at Alice mischievously. Teasing Edward has become his new favorite past time. He's been doing it ever since they arrived at bar thirty minutes ago. She scolds her boyfriend, telling him to ease up a little. It's been a long time since Alice has seen her brother so carefree. She welcomes the shift from his usual brooding, even if the cause is a major source of confusion for the rest of them.

Edward's argument is weak. "I do not have a girlfriend," he says.

"He spent the night at her apartment three times last week," Jasper says to Alice. "And again last night."

"So? How does that translate into having a girlfriend?"

Jasper looks between Edward and the redhead sitting a few tables away. She had approached theirs earlier, but Edward quickly told her he wasn't looking to meet anyone. "Prove me wrong."

Edward takes a second glance at the woman. Their eyes meet and she offers him a slight smile. Under usual circumstances it wouldn't take Jasper to convince him to pursue a pretty girl. In the not so distant past he'd taken a different one home every weekend, but that all seemed foreign to him now. He couldn't do that to Bella.

"That wouldn't prove I have a girlfriend. It would prove I'm an asshole," he says.

His sister scoffs. Jasper reminds him of the obvious. "Dude, you are an asshole."

"You're probably right." Edward rubs the back of his neck. "Bella will be here any minute though."

"Your girlfriend," Jasper says.

"My friend."

"Whatever, man." He throws his hands in the air. "It all seems way too complicated for me."

"It's not complicated at all," Edward argues. "That's the entire point."

He throws back the rest of his drink in hopes that it will somehow shift the conversation away from his relationship or lack thereof. Edward tries not to focus on the way his best friend's fingers slide playfully across his little sister's midriff or the open mouth kisses Jasper presses against Alice's collarbone. No matter how confusing Edward's own relationship status is, the fact that Alice is Jasper's girlfriend is glaringly obvious. Edward isn't yet accustomed to seeing his best friend and sister as a couple, and it's doubtful he ever will be.

Bella appears at that moment, falling into Edward's lap in the same way Alice sits on Jasper's. She throws her arms around Edward's neck and gives him a quick kiss to say hello. Since their dinner at Meyers two weeks ago, the two have grown very comfortable with various forms of PDA. Bella has also grown more comfortable with Jasper. She's seen him twice since their awkward first encounter at the boys' apartment, the details of which were mostly omitted to Alice.

"No way," Bella says after exchanging hellos. Edward mentioned Jasper having a girlfriend but hadn't specified who. "You guys are dating?"

"Unfortunately," Edward mutters.

His comment doesn't deter Alice. The opposition she receives from Edward concerning her relationship is minor compared to what she hears elsewhere. Jasper isn't good enough. He doesn't have an education, and he's definitely too old for her eighteen years. No one accepts their relationship, despite all of Jasper's desperate attempts to seek her family's approval.

Edward is different. Alice knows his dismay has little to do with who she's dating and more to do with the fact that she is. Edward has always been protective over his little sister, but deep down she knows he supports them. If he didn't, then they wouldn't be sitting together at a bar. He wouldn't accompany her to every single one of Jasper's shows or constantly make excuses to their parents as to her whereabouts.

Despite the seven year age gap, Alice has always been close to her brother. The fact that she has chosen to date someone exactly like him reflects that. It's also very telling of why her father disapproves so much.

"Edward is pissed because I have a girlfriend and he doesn't," Jasper says.

"I'm pissed because you can't find someone your own goddamn age to date."

"Age is just a number."

"She's eighteen," Edward explains to Bella. "Technically not even old enough to be in this bar. We're lucky she didn't get ID'd."

Bella jokes, "By who? The bar? Or your friend?"

Edward frowns. Jasper grins. "Hey, I know exactly how old she is."

"Only because I spent the night at your house the night she was born!"

Alice has finally had enough. "Can you guys _please_ stop talking about me as if I'm not even here? Clearly my maturity level is higher than both of yours combined, therefore I think I'm old enough to decide who I date. Right, Bella?"

"Absolutely," she agrees. Edward tightens his grip on her waist. He's torn between being thankful for the extra support or scolding her for encouraging his sister.

A waitress stops by their table, interrupting, and Edward orders a few more drinks. Having grown very knowledgeable of Bella's likes and dislikes over the past few weeks, he doesn't hesitate before ordering for her and putting the drinks on his own tab. Bella has finally gotten past her urge to argue with Edward every time he pays. No matter what she says or does, she never wins. She's learned that it's easier to let certain things go and thanks him with the rolling of her eyes and a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"It's about time you show up," Alice says to Bella. "Where have you been all night?"

"I had to work late." She turns to Edward. "My boss is such a douche."

Edward isn't about to argue with that. Bella used to like her boss, but he's grown increasingly needy over the past few weeks. She's doing more and more work, and at the same time Jacob is doing considerably less. Her annoyance is only compounded by the fact that she'd suddenly rather spend all of her evenings with Edward. While working late used to be an option, lately it's been more of a necessity.

"Are you still working on the benefit?" Alice asks. The boys exchange a glance.

Bella doesn't notice. "Wow, I can't believe you remember that." She remembers having mentioned it to Alice the first time they met, but that had been weeks ago. "Yes, I am, and I'm so sick of it. It's only three weeks away and we still have so many last minute details to cover."

"That sucks. Do you at least know what you're wearing?"

"Ugh, no. I haven't even had a chance to look. Why? Do you want to help me pick something out?"

"Seriously?" Alice asks. "Do you want me to?"

Bella looks to Edward before responding in case he has any objections. She isn't sure if hanging out with Alice oversteps some sort of invisible boundary, but judging from the attentive look on his face he doesn't seem to mind. Edward understands Bella's need for female company; he'd love to see Bella in a sexy dress but isn't exactly interested in helping her pick one out. "Sure. I could use someone else's opinion."

A look of excitement flashes across Alice's face. She claps her hands together. "Oh my gosh, this is going to be so much fun."

Jasper and Edward laugh. "For one of you, at least," Edward jokes, and Bella begins to wonder what she's gotten herself into.

A bouncer approaches their table. "How's everybody doing? Can I please see some IDs?"

The four of them exchange a glance. "Shit," Alice mutters under her breath after a few seconds of digging through her purse. "I must have left mine in my car."

It takes everything in Bella's power not to smirk at the blatant lie as she hands her own ID over to be inspected. Edward and Jasper do the same. "You three are good to go." The bouncer sets his sights on their underage friend. "You, on the other hand, need to leave the premises immediately."

"Seriously?" Jasper steps up to defend his girlfriend. "She's not even drinking."

"I don't make the rules, buddy."

"But you can choose whether or not to enforce them," he argues.

Alice tries to defuse the situation. "It's fine."

He looks down at her. "It's not fine. Bella _just_ got here."

"I need to get home anyway," Alice says. "Curfew and all."

The bouncer raises his eyebrows. Jasper sighs. "Fine. Are you guys coming?" he asks.

Edward glares at him for putting them on the spot. Hanging out at his parents house all night isn't exactly how he had intended on spending his evening, nor is he ready for the onslaught of questions that will indefinitely arise. Jasper knows this. He flashes Edward an arrogant smirk, and Bella knows there's something left unsaid. Edward is forced to extend the invitation to her, knowing if he doesn't, it'll likely make her even more suspicious. "Do you want to?"

Bella hesitates. A lot of lines she's okay with crossing: public displays of affection, sleepovers, paying for meals. But the possibility of meeting Edward's mom absolutely terrifies her, both because of the impression she might make and what it would mean for Edward and Bella's relationship.

"Maybe some other time," she suggests, causing Edward to breathe a sigh of relief. She assumes that he, too, is not willing or ready to take that step. They depart the bar, and the two couples go their separate ways, with Alice scolding Jasper the entire way home.

"You should really stop smoking," Bella says to Edward as they walk the short distance between the station and her apartment. She's never approached the topic with him before, but lately it's become more and more of an annoyance.

He brings the cigarette to his lips for a long drag before tossing it aside. "Or maybe you could start."

"No thanks." She rolls her eyes. "I'd rather not die of lung cancer. It'd kind of be nice if you didn't either."

"_Kind of _nice?" He laughs. "Thanks, babe."

She slaps him on the shoulder. "I'm being serious!"

They enter Bella's apartment building and start up the stairs. "Bella, my dad had lung cancer," Edward says.

"And?"

"He never smoked a day in his life."

"So? That makes it even worse. You're genetically predisposed."

"We're all going to die anyway. Might as well enjoy ourselves while we're at it," he says. She looks at him with irritation and reaches for her keys.

"There are better ways to enjoy life."

"Right. Like always working late for your douche bag boss and fucking a guy you initially assumed to be homeless."

They walk into Bella's apartment. Edward locks the door behind them as she throws her keys onto the counter. She turns to face him. "But not really."

The two wrap their arms around each other and Edward presses his lips to hers, their previous impasse forgotten. The kiss is lengthy and passionate with neither willing to pull away first. Coming home with Bella after a long day is just what Edward needs to feel relaxed and at ease. Chicago isn't so lonely when she's around, but when hands begin to wander, the forefront of their relationship is brought back into the spotlight.

This is about sex. It's not a meaningful relationship, though sometimes Edward wishes it were.

"You're so nice to my sister," Edward says when he and Bella are finally in bed. "I love that about you."

Bella breaks away from the trail of kisses she's placing along his jawline. "I can't believe you're talking about your sister right now."

"Sorry," he apologizes. After their kiss in the kitchen, Bella and Edward had broken into a long forgotten bottle of vodka in her freezer. She begins to wonder if doing so was a mistake as Edward continues, "It's just that I worry about her, you know?"

Bella sighs quietly, unsure of why Edward is choosing now of all times for a heart-to-heart conversation. Their clothes lay discarded on Bella's bedroom floor, the bottle of vodka half-empty. She rolls onto her side and he does the same. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks.

Edward is suddenly very serious. "Bella, I have to tell you something."

"Now?"

"My dad..." he hesitates, losing his courage. Edward's conscious is heavy, but the vodka isn't enough to make the words flow. Bella sees the conflict in his eyes. She doesn't need him to finish the sentence for her to know the obvious: Edward's dad didn't make it.

"Shh," she says, placing her finger over his lips. "It's okay. You don't have to say it."

Edward is ready to object. He wants to continue with his confession, but when Bella brings her lips to his all thoughts are pushed aside. He gets lost in the way she tastes and how his skin tingles as hands begin to wander. She pushes Edward onto his back and continues along the trail she'd started before his odd interruption.

His eyes close. The anticipation builds with every brush of her lips against his skin. Each time she drifts a little lower, from his neck to his chest, chest to stomach, and then farther. Bella looks up at him daringly before swiping her tongue along the tip of his member. She takes him into her mouth.

"Oh, fuck."

The contact causes Edward's entire body to shudder. He steadies his nerves by grabbing Bella by the hair and gripping it tightly. She takes him deeper with every bob of her head, and after a while Edward loses all self-control and begins to thrust. Having gotten his fair share of blow jobs over the past few years, he's no stranger to the way it feels. Edward would be hard pressed to complain about any girl who is willing to let him fuck her mouth, but Bella takes pleasure to another level.

It only figures that someone so good at giving head would ruin it by refusing to swallow.

"Baby, stop."

It takes every ounce of his willpower in order to force the words out. And to push her head away when she doesn't immediately comply. She'd specified that she wouldn't swallow, but did that mean she didn't want him to come in her mouth? He isn't sure. But it doesn't matter, because as much as the idea of doing either excites him, he isn't ready for it to end.

Bella's expression is questioning; she wonders if she's done something wrong.

Edward sees her insecurity and puts it to rest. His hands move to her hair again, but this time he gently tucks it behind her ear. "You're fucking amazing. You know that right?"

Edward rolls over and reaches into Bella's nightstand, the contents of which he's become very familiar with over the past two weeks. He grabs the last condom from it's spot next to her vibrator, taking note that while an entire box has been depleted, she likely hasn't had a reason to use her toy at all. Edward briefly ponders all of the ways they could work it into their nightly routine, but most of his ideas push the limits of what's acceptable in their still new non-relationship.

Bella lies on her back and waits as Edward slides the rubber onto his shaft, realizing for the first time that she would feel one hundred percent safe if he opted to skip the extra protection. She takes her birth control religiously and trusts him when he says he's clean. It's only a formality for her at this point, and something she's going along with to make Edward feel more comfortable. She doubts he's willing to take the risk, having made it very clear that he never goes bare.

Edward is grateful for the condom, but only because he's grateful for the extra time it gives him to calm down. He knows that had he gone straight from Bella's mouth to her pussy, and bare, he would have shot his load almost immediately. As much as Edward would love to do that—in her mouth, pussy, or elsewhere—it isn't his intention to come before she does.

And when she does come, it's nothing short of earth-shattering and everything she needs to be eternally content with the man sharing her bed; the one who is quickly becoming more than just a fuck-buddy, but also her closest friend.


	8. in the dark

**_a/n: A lot of you have commented on my chapter titles. I can't take credit for those; I'm using lyrics from Brand New's "Flying at Tree Level." Thanks to all who have recommended, reviewed, tweeted, made banners, etc. Enjoy!_**

Alice is adamant. "Get the blue one."

Bella's eyes quickly shift between two dresses. To say she and Alice have different tastes would be an understatement. Both dresses she's tried on multiple times, along with several others, and the fact that only two remain despite their constant disagreeing is nothing short of a miracle. Bella likes the blue dress better. However, the green one is on clearance while the blue is not, making the final decision much more difficult than it should be.

"I don't know," she waivers. "It's kind of out of my price range."

Alice sighs. "Is that the only thing holding you back?"

"I mean, I guess I could charge it," Bella says, "but that seems kind of frivolous when I could just get the green one and pay cash."

"Maybe you're just looking at things the wrong way," her friend reasons. "How much money have you saved since you started seeing my brother?"

Bella cringes. "I can't justify it like that. He shouldn't be spending money on me anyway."

"Edward would want you to get the more expensive dress. You deserve it," she insists. "And he'll love it."

Bella looks between the dresses again, refusing to make eye contact with Edward's sister. She's yet to ask him to accompany her to the benefit, nor has she decided if she even should. It's not like they're dating. The mere idea makes her stomach twist with anxiety. "Do you think I should ask him to be my date?"

"He hasn't asked you?"

Bella shakes her head.

"Oh," Alice says.

"Why would he? Do you know something I don't?"

Alice deflects. "Bella, what is my brother to you?"

She hesitates. "We're friends."

"Friends." Alice is skeptical. "Have you had sex with him?"

"Alice," Bella scolds. The question is straightforward and its answer obvious.

Still, Alice waits for it.

"Of course I have," Bella answers eventually, blushing. "So what?"

"Doesn't sound like friendship to me," she mutters, and Bella's eyes roll.

"If Edward wants to be more, all he has to do is ask. But he hasn't, and he's made it very clear on several occasions that he doesn't." Bella grabs the blue dress and heads toward the cash register. She hopes that Alice won't see the heartache creeping over her in the process.

After Bella purchases the dress, the two hit up a couple more stores. Alice buys a dress as well, and Bella buys a few new outfits for work. She spends far more than she should. They stop by Bella's apartment to drop off the purchases, and she and Alice decide to head out again for an early dinner.

It isn't Bella's idea. She'd rather stay home and eat ramen noodles, but Alice had been nice enough to follow her around from store to store all day, and it's only fair Bella should participate in something Alice wants to do as well. She enjoys Alice's companionship. It's nice to have a friend who isn't expecting sexual favors in return—even if that friend is Edward's sister. She seizes the opportunity to spend more time with Alice but feels guilty when Edward texts and asks if he and Jasper can join. If he does, she knows he'll most likely pay for the meal she can't afford herself, and neither can he.

"I don't know how you can do it," Alice says as they wait for the boys to arrive.

Bella looks up from her phone. She's texting Edward. "Do what?"

"Hook up with someone without knowing anything about them."

"It's easier than you think," Bella says. "Trust me."

"Even the idea of... _that_... terrifies me."

Bella eventually catches on to what she's insinuating. "Wait. Have you ever?"

"No," Alice admits. "Never."

Her jaw drops. "Seriously? Not even with Jasper?"

"Not yet," she replies. A smile plays on the edge of her lips.

"Holy shit. I guess I just assumed."

"He's being so patient," Alice exhales. "And I know how badly he wants to. It's just that he's so much more experienced than I am. What if I'm not good enough? What if it hurts? What if I don't live up to his... expectations?"

"Slow down, Alice."

"Sorry."

"You'll be fine," Bella assures her. "It's just sex."

"Maybe to you."

"You know, my first time wasn't anything to write home about."

"Really?"

"I'm not sure it's supposed to be." She pauses for a sip of water before continuing. "But, yeah. First semester of college. My roommate dragged me to this party, right? And I met up with this guy. He was in a few of my classes, and I had the biggest crush on him. Anyway, after a few drinks I finally worked up the courage to talk to him, and one thing led to another."

"What was so bad about it?"

Bella leaves out most of the gory details. "He hooked up with my roommate that same night."

Alice's eyes go wide. "No way."

Bella nods. "It was so humiliating. And to make matters worse, they kept hooking up. We shared a tiny dorm room! I couldn't escape them."

"Wow. That really sucks."

"I was finally able to switch dorms at the beginning of the next semester," Bella says. "But by then, I was just, I don't know, over it."

"Does Edward know that story?" Alice asks a few seconds later.

"Um, no," Bella says. "We don't really talk about stuff like that."

"And you won't tell him about me and Jasper, right?"

"Right. Secret's safe with me," she assures her friend, and only a few seconds after, the guys arrive.

As the four slip into meaningless conversation, Edward's arm drifts to Bella's shoulder. Something's off. He noticed immediately upon his arrival, even through her attempts to act normal. She's quiet. Too quiet. Bella takes frequent sips from her water, having refused the beer he ordered for her.

Edward burns with curiosity and concern. It didn't escape his notice that whatever she and Alice were talking about when he arrived, they didn't want him to know. He fears the worst. "Are you okay?" he whispers into her ear.

Bella puts on her best smile. She kisses his cheek. "Great. How was your afternoon?"

He'd kept himself occupied with guitars and video games while Bella was away, but neither seem to hold his attention quite like she does. Today is the first Saturday he's spent away from her in two weeks, and if he were being honest, he'd say it totally sucked. "It was good," he lies. "Was your shopping trip successful?"

"A little too successful. Between a dress for the benefit and a few new outfits for work, I spent almost my entire paycheck."

"You're going to _love_ her dress," Alice gushes, interrupting.

Edward frowns, and Bella, unsure if her comment about money or Alice's implication that they'll be attending the benefit together is the source, focuses all attention on the entree in front of her, more intimidated than ever.

The waitress stops by to check the accuracy of their orders, and Bella assumes that to an outsider, the couples seem very much alike. A stranger wouldn't be able to distinguish between the two—to guess that one couple is doing everything by the book, while the other struggles to even get onto the same page. Bella briefly wonders if Jasper and Alice are any happier or better off, but eventually decides that relationship or no relationship, it's all the same.

"Hey, what were you and my sister talking about earlier?" Later, Edward asks the question that has been eating away at him all night.

They're settled in at her apartment for the evening, having said goodbye to Jasper and Alice a couple of hours ago. Beer cans crowd the coffee table. A recently purchased blue dress hangs in Bella's closet. The thought to ask Edward to the benefit looms in her head, but Bella is too busy concentrating on a spur of the moment press release to worry about her personal life. Jacob called frantic thirty minutes ago with the news that a celebrity client had gotten himself into trouble with the police. He would have prepared the statement himself, but Bella made herself available, insisting she had nothing better to do.

Edward flops next to Bella on the couch, his hair damp from an extra long shower. He had hoped Bella would be finished with the release before his return, and grabs the remote to watch television when it's obvious she's not. He's ready for bed, having dressed, or underdressed, for the part. He wears only boxers, and his eyes rake over Bella's sleep shorts and slim-fitting tank top. Bella has been distant ever since dinner, where she had paid for not only herself, but Edward too, and he's dying to be close to her.

She's worried about money. Edward knows that. He knows Bella probably spent way more than she should on a dress for the benefit, and it's no wonder she so eagerly accepted Jacob's late night assignment. What Edward doesn't understand is why Bella so adamantly insisted on paying for dinner. He wishes there was something he could do; he would give her all of his earnings from performing in the subway yesterday if only he thought she would accept them. But there's more to her strange behavior, and he's terrified Alice revealed something she shouldn't. Edward has no idea Bella could be so nervous over something as simple as asking him to the benefit.

"When?" Bella asks, though she knows exactly what he's referencing. She glances away from her laptop temporarily to meet his eyes before returning her attention to the screen.

"When Jasper and I showed up at the restaurant."

"Oh," she says, acting as if she's only partially paying attention. For a few moments she considers being honest but decides better of it. No man wants to hear about his baby sister's plot to lose her virginity. "Nothing of importance. Why?"

Edward purses his lips together. She isn't lying, but he knows she isn't being entirely honest either. "No reason. Just curious."

He focuses his attention on channel surfing, but it isn't long before Bella shuts her laptop and puts it aside. "Hey, Edward?"

"What?"

"How did you lose your virginity?"

The question catches Edward off guard. He isn't naive enough to think it's random, nor does he want to know how Bella landed on the subject. Bella's conversation with Alice got her wondering. It also made her decide she doesn't know nearly enough about the man she spends the majority of her free time with.

He answers vaguely, running a hand through wet hair. "I was in college."

It's not the answer she expects. "You went to _college_?"

Edward laughs under his breath. "I really shouldn't be surprised that you're surprised, should I?"

"I'm not surprised," she lies. Edward gazes at Bella with a blank stare and waits for her to come clean. "Okay, so I'm kind of surprised," she admits.

"That's what I thought."

"Did you graduate?" she asks.

His expression is smug. "At the top of my class."

"Liar."

He maintains eye contact. "Not a lie."

"Whatever, you probably majored in art or some shit."

"Music."

"Like that's any better," she mutters. "No wonder you're living in a cardboard box."

"Yeah, and what'd you major in? Sucking dick? Because if so, you're doing it wrong."

She grins, playfully pushing him onto his back. "Funny. That's not what you said the other night."

Their conversation ends abruptly as Edward presses his lips against hers. She sinks into him with a little more force than necessary, and the tension around them begins to subside. Edward never tells Bella how he lost his virginity, and Bella never gets around to asking if he'll attend the benefit with her. Instead they spend the night wrapped in each other, questions unanswered and reality ignored.

"Bella, I believe you've met Mrs. Cullen before."

Monday morning comes too soon, and with it, an impromptu meeting with Esme Cullen. Not only is the woman married to Doctor Carlisle Cullen, but she also works as a prominent interior designer in the Chicago area. Esme looks strikingly familiar to Bella, though they've only met once before. Together they picked out a venue for the benefit, but that had been several months ago. A handful of emails and phone conversations have occurred between the two women since, but Esme's busy schedule has prevented her from stopping by Embry and Black, until now.

"I have," Bella says. "It's nice to see you again."

Bella's mind is scattered, having rushed to the office after waking up thirty minutes later than usual. She places the blame for her oversleeping on Edward, as he kept her awake most of the night. He's been sleeping over more frequently as of late, their weekends only rule completely disregarded. No sooner had Bella settled into her desk when Jacob and Esme came waltzing in, leaving Bella with very little time to gather her thoughts.

Her cell phone buzzes with a new message from the man she'd left half asleep in her bed, and she chances a glance at the screen before shoving it into her top desk drawer.

_**You look very nice today. Can I take you to lunch?**_

_Very nice_ is only one way of putting it. If Edward were being honest, he'd say something far more inappropriate. He'd tell Bella she should've stayed in bed a little longer, or that he can't wait to fuck her again tonight. But it's his fault she overslept, and he knows she's probably not in the mood to entertain the same type of fantasies that made her late to work in the first place.

Edward isn't the only one taking notice of Bella's appearance. Her new outfit suits her, and Jacob's eyes skim every curve of her slender body. He wonders what has her so worked up this morning. _He_ could get her worked up, assuming human relations were to fall off the face of the planet for a while...

Bella is oblivious to her boss's gawking. She doesn't notice the way he subtly wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue, or the way he sticks his hands into his pockets, stretching his slacks to hide an unruly erection. Being trapped in a room with two women, one beautiful from youth, and the other, plastic surgery, is not the worst way he could start his day.

"Rough morning?" Jacob asks Bella, attempting to pull his mind out of the gutter.

He wonders if Bella likes it rough.

Edward could attest to the fact that she does. "You could say that," she says.

"Esme just stopped by to go over a few last minute details," Jacob explains. "Should we head into the conference room?"

Orange juice and fresh bagels adorn the conference room's oversized table, but they're mostly ignored by the three associates, who choose to sit at the opposite end. Bella gets straight to business, answering every question Mrs. Cullen asks with little hesitation. The benefit is only a week away, and very few details remain unattended to. She presents her boss and client with diagrams and seating charts, event programs, and financial numbers. The time and preparation Bella has put into the project is apparent, and both Jacob and Esme are very impressed.

Mrs. Cullen takes her husband's foundation very seriously. It becomes apparent to Bella that Esme is a bit of a perfectionist, but after reining in every last detail, Esme breathes a sigh of relief and congratulates Embry and Black with a job well done.

"I think we're ready," Esme says, triumph in her voice.

"It would certainly appear that way," Jacob agrees.

"I hope so," Bella adds, still a little unsure. The benefit is her baby, and she doubts she'll feel totally confident until after everything is said and done.

"Found your dress yet?" Mrs. Cullen asks, dabbling in lighter conversation. Esme likes Bella. And since it would seem that her own daughter wants nothing to do with the Cullen Foundation, she finds enjoyment in talking to someone who does.

Bella nods. "Just this past weekend, actually."

"I'll bet it's beautiful." Esme smiles. "And you're bringing your boyfriend, I presume?"

Bella hesitates. Jacob pays special attention to her response. "No boyfriend," Bella says. "I'm way too busy for one of those."

Mrs. Cullen winks. "They really are more trouble than they're worth, aren't they?"

"You could say that." Bella agrees.

"You know, I have a son that can't be much older than you..." the socialite begins, but when the direction of the conversation registers with Bella, she does her best to shut it down. Images of Emmett Cullen enter her head. Maybe he's separated after all, but regardless, she's still not interested.

"That won't be necessary," Bella laughs. "I have a _friend_." She puts special emphasis on the word. "I would ask him, but I'm a little apprehensive when it comes to mixing my professional life with my personal. And I'm not sure how well he'd fit in," she confesses.

Translation: Edward isn't quite up to standards.

"Nonsense!" Esme insists, "Bring him! Surely he's no worse than my daughter's loser boyfriend."

"Or don't," Jacob interjects. "There's nothing wrong with going solo. I am. Hell, Bella, we could even go together. As associates, of course..."

"I'll think about it," Bella says, avoiding an answer and seeking a way to escape the conference room as soon as possible. Suddenly there's one thing more terrifying than asking Edward to benefit: having to go without him. "I should really get going," she says, her eyes darting to the closed door.

"Me too," Esme agrees. "I'm off to hunt down that son of mine. He hasn't stopped by the house in _weeks_!"

"Maybe he has a woman after all." Bella is only partially paying attention to Jacob as she darts out the door.

Back in her office, she takes a sequence of deep breaths to calm herself. It's already 10:45. She remembers Edward wanting to meet for lunch and pulls out her phone, allowing herself no time to back down. Scrolling to the most recent message, she hits reply.

_**Lunch sounds great. Oh, and Edward... I need a favor.**_


	9. after we crash your car

"Dammit."

Bella fidgets with her long, unruly bangs for what seems like the thousandth time. Perhaps getting a last minute haircut was a mistake. For the past hour she's been looking in the mirror, styling her hair, and applying generous amounts of make-up to an already gorgeous face.

It's all she can do to keep her mind occupied. She refuses to allow herself to consider the things to come. It's half past five on a Saturday, but today isn't like any other. Edward will be arriving in thirty minutes, and together they'll be attending a benefit for the Cullen Foundation. All of Bella's hard work is about to be on display for hundreds to see. Weeks of dedication has led up to this point, and everything, especially her appearance, _has_ to be perfect.

She's anxious. Not only for the benefit, but to see Edward. Convincing him to accompany her hadn't been easy. When she initially asked him, he complained of the obvious: it wasn't his scene. Bella argued that Edward plays social events all the time; attending one would be no different. Her persistence only irritated him, and a disagreement between them escalated quickly. He wasn't her boyfriend. It wasn't his job, he had said. Finally Edward admitted to her that his mother would be at the benefit, and that their relationship is strained.

His confession caught Bella by surprise, but at the same time, it didn't. Hundreds of people were set to attend the benefit, from survivors and their families to area businessmen and pharmaceutical sponsors. She assumed Edward's mother would be attending in remembrance of his father and realized how difficult things must be for a mourning son. With that in mind, Bella was content on dropping the subject. She'd go alone, or she'd go with Jacob. Edward had his out. But the second she mentioned going with someone else, his mind changed. There was no way in hell he'd sit back and watch as she went with someone else.

"Fuck it."

Across town, Edward adjusts the knot of his tie. He feels like he's about to puke. Is it too late to bail? He checks his watch. It's five till six. If he doesn't leave now, he's going to be late. He takes one final glance in the mirror; his face is shaven, his hair combed back. It's been a while since he looked so together; his mom will be proud. Not only is Edward handsome, but he has a beautiful, smart date. She's not his girlfriend, though, but no one at the benefit needs to know that. It doesn't matter anyway. The chances of having any sort of relationship with Bella after tonight are slim to none, and before he can dwell on the thought, he darts out the door.

He's regretful of the rash decisions that led him to this point. What was he thinking? Walking into his own demise, only so he wouldn't see his girl with someone else, doesn't make a whole lot of sense. He should have stuck to his original plan and stayed home. But even then, Bella would still see Alice. She'd still make the connection. It was only a matter of time.

He was doomed from the start.

An abrupt knock interrupts the tense silence in Bella's apartment. Her anxiety level lowers, though only slightly. It's almost six-thirty. Edward is fifteen minutes late, but at least he's there. She opens the door, and each take a moment to stare at the other. It's hard to believe Bella once thought this handsome man to be homeless.

Hooded eyes rake over her every curve. She's stunning. Alice was right. Edward loves the blue dress. It makes his heart ache with both lust and regret. He allows his mind to wander for a moment, imagining their situation differently. If only he were taking her to one of his piano gigs, he might be able to help her out of that dress at the end of the night. She would welcome him into her bed with open arms, and he'd hang on to the promise of great things to come: of a real relationship with titles and commitments, of cum swallowing, taking her bare, and maybe, someday, even her ass.

He's realized he wants that. Not her ass; he started fantasizing about that before they ever spoke—a relationship. But it's too late, because he's taking her to the Cullen benefit, and soon everything between them will be over. The time for honesty passed long ago. Forget Bella's bed; Edward will be lucky to spend the night on Jasper's futon. He's worried that if he sees Bella's boss get handsy, or his perverted step-brother make a move on the sly, he might end up in jail.

Bella glances down at the bouquet of red roses in Edward's hands. The flowers had been an afterthought. Edward knows it's a cheesy, stupid gesture, but at least it makes her smile. Maybe she'll remember them when she's deciding whether to hate him or not.

He speaks first. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's okay."

It's really not. He knows how important it is for Bella to arrive early, and his mother told him to do the same.

"Do you want to put these inside?" he asks.

"Of course," she replies, taking the flowers from him and heading into her kitchen. Doing so allows Edward to gawk at the flawless skin on her back. The dress is lowcut, and the way it accentuates her ass makes his heart accelerate.

He definitely wishes he'd gotten some of that ass.

He'll definitely go to jail tonight.

"You look nice, baby."

_Nice_. That's one way of putting it. It's better than being honest about what's on his wandering mind.

"Thanks," she says. "You too."

He fakes his best smile. "Whatever."

"No, seriously. Is that Hugo Boss?" She teases, "Was Men's Wearhouse having a sale or something?"

He can't help but laugh. She thinks he rented a tux. Of course she'd make that assumption. "Ready to go?" he asks, steering the conversation away from his attire.

Obviously they aren't taking the subway. In the parking lot of Bella's apartment building, she expects a yellow cab to be waiting. Instead there's a shiny silver Volvo, and it catches her by surprise when Edward opens the passenger door and guides her inside. Like the exterior, the interior is in immaculate condition. Bella gets situated by putting on her seatbelt as Edward climbs in on the driver's side. He presses a button below the steering column to start the ignition.

"Dude. Is this a rental?" Bella asks. "You could've gone with an economy car, you know."

Edward stares at her with amusement. "I'm sorry?"

"Those damn counter agents cornered you with the upgrade, didn't they?" Her eyes roll. "Don't tell me you got the extra insurance coverage too."

"Baby," he scolds playfully. He leans over the center console for a kiss, intertwining their tongues and holding out for as long as he can get away with it. He's wanted to kiss her since he first laid eyes on that blue dress. With every touch, every brush of their lips, Edward knows their relationship is coming closer to the end.

If only he would have told her, this wouldn't be happening.

"Just make sure you don't smoke in here," Bella warns. A smile flashes across her face as she recalls a memory. "My dad did that when we went to California once. He had a nice five hundred dollar fine smacked on his credit card by the time we got back to Washington State."

"This is my car," Edward blurts out. The anxiety boils beneath his skin as he gauges her reaction. If anything, this will be the easiest admission of the evening. It's good practice.

"What?" Surprise is evident in Bella's voice. "Seriously? I don't believe you."

He laughs nervously. "Of course you don't."

"If this is your car, why do we always take the subway?"

"Driving in the city is a bitch." He shrugs. "And I like it."

"How can you afford it? Jesus, this has to be at least a thirty thousand dollar car."

He doesn't correct her. In reality it's closer to forty. "Being homeless has it's advantages."

"You're such a liar," she says. She's teasing now. "Gotta invest extra money in your residence, I guess."

He shrugs. "Maybe I _should_ live out of it. It beats Jasper's living room, right?"

"I still think it's a rental."

She opens the glove compartment in search of anything: registration, insurance verification, a rental agreement. Buried beneath an ice scraper and owner's manual, she finds what she's looking for. Before Edward can fully grasp what's about to happen, it's already too late. Her eyes skim on the printed slip before he can yank it away.

"Bella, don't—"

"Esmeralda Cullen," she reads the name below Edward Masen's on the insurance verification. "What the fuck?"

Bella can hardly believe her eyes. There's no way the two—Esmeralda and Esme Cullen—are one and the same. What are the chances? And why would _she_ be on Edward's vehicle policy?

Edward is silent. He grasps for something to say, anything, but the words never come. His head hangs in shame. "My mother."

"Esme Cullen is your mother."

He nods. The tension in the car, though playful only a few seconds ago, is thick as she processes their connection.

She's silent. A minute passes, followed by another. They still haven't left the parking lot of Bella's apartment complex. The benefit doesn't technically begin until 7:30, but with each second that passes, Bella loses a little more time to iron out last minute details.

She couldn't care less.

"Bella, baby, I'm so sorry." He hopes she'll hear the sincerity in his voice.

"You told me your mom would be at the benefit." She raises her voice, "You didn't say she was _hosting_ it!"

"Do you see now why I was so reluctant to go."

"I thought I could trust you!" she seethes. "I thought you understood!"

"What are you talking about?" he asks. "I _do_ understand!"

"Is this some sort of joke to you?" she demands. "You told me your dad was dead! You didn't mention anything about him being one of the most prominent cancer physicians in the midwest!"

He's quick to correct her. His voice is cold. "Carlisle is Alice's dad. Not mine."

"Alice." The mention of her name causes another flood of emotions to overcome Bella. "This entire time I thought she was my friend."

"Leave my sister out of this," he warns. "It wasn't her place."

"Right," Bella agrees. "It was yours."

"I'm the asshole." His tone is apologetic.

She has no arguments there. "What were you thinking? Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out?"

No. He didn't think that. "I'm sorry," he says again.

She's too occupied by her rant to even acknowledge him. "And when were you planning on telling me? Why didn't you?"

Tears are coming now, and fast, but they don't stop Edward from becoming defensive. "When would have been a good time, Bella? The first night we met? I had a hard enough time convincing you I wasn't homeless!"

She opens her mouth but doesn't respond. He's right. She wouldn't have believed him. Besides, it wouldn't have mattered. There's no way either of them could have made the connection then.

He continues, "How about when you bought me a fucking guitar because you thought I couldn't afford one myself?"

Again, Bella has nothing to say.

Anger radiates from Edward as he adds one final scenario to the list. His fists are tight. "Or when my fucking step-brother tried to get into your pants? And you wonder why I don't want anything to do with them," he adds sarcastically.

Bella isn't listening. "How much was your guitar?"

Edward doesn't want to say. "Baby," he pleads, his tone much softer than it had been moments before.

"Tell me."

His first instinct is to lie, but he knows better. "Carlisle paid five."

"Five?" she asks.

"Five grand," he clarifies.

Bella turns away and stares out the window, her jaw tight. She's officially done with their conversation. With Edward.

He's not. "Bella, look at me."

She doesn't.

"Please," he begs, desperation in his voice.

She turns her head slightly. "What?"

He reaches across the console for her hand, but she pulls away. "Buying that guitar was probably the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

She rolls her eyes. "Sure it was. It's the thought that counts, right?"

"It's perfect." He laughs. _She's_ perfect. For him, at least. "I mean, come on. What kind of an idiot takes a guitar worth five grand onto the subway?"

Bella almost cracks a smile. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Edward looks into Bella's watery eyes and smirks. Losing the guitar wasn't one of his finer moments. There are a lot of things that he regrets, but leaving his guitar unattended isn't one of them. He can't regret any of the things that led him to Bella.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a handkerchief for Bella to dry her eyes. There's no time for her to run back inside to adjust her make up; she'll be late if they don't leave soon. "We need to get going," he explains, shifting the car into gear. "Don't let whatever's going on between us ruin this for you."

She scoffs. "Us? There is no us."

"You and I both know that's not true."

"Whatever," she mutters.

"I don't have to go," he offers.

"Yeah right," she says. "You apparently have more of a right to be there than I do."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Just take me to the goddamn benefit, Edward," she snaps. "But after tonight, I don't want anything to do with you."

The rest of their ride passes in awkward silence. Bella stares out the window, her expression blank. She doesn't make idle conversation, and Edward doesn't force her to. A million thoughts fly through her head. Never in her life has she felt so humiliated, so betrayed. Not when her mom left her as a child—she was too young to know any better then—and not when she caught her ex in bed with someone else. As far as she's concerned, it would have been easier to stomach if Edward _had _been fucking some other girl. At least if that were the case, she might understand his motivation. What did he have to gain?

For whatever reason, she knows she's been played. Not only by Edward, but Alice too. And when she said she didn't want anything to do with him, she meant every word. Whatever "us" meant, whatever had been between them, it's over now. They're over. Tonight she would put on a face, just as he had, and pretend she knew all along.

And tomorrow, the benefit will be over. She'll never have to think of the Cullen Foundation or Edward again.

**a/n: a very big thank you to ooza, livieliv79, julie and abadkitty for their input on this chapter. thanks for reading!**


	10. Hoping fast that my arrow hits the mark

For Bella, the logical thing to do would be to part ways with Edward as soon as they arrive at the benefit. It's what she wants: to pretend her date bailed, to pretend she doesn't know this guy. Cut her losses. It's less humiliating than unknowingly arriving at her first major social event on the arm of the client's son.

But she doesn't. She can't, because as soon as she steps out of the car, it's already too late. Bella's eyes land on the black luxury SUV that's pulled into the valet behind them, out from which Edward's stepbrother, Emmett and his wife, Rosalie emerge.

"Shit," she mutters quietly to herself.

As an outsider, no one would have any indication of what transpired between Edward and Bella on the ride over. It certainly helps that Edward took a longer route to the benefit. He gave Bella plenty of time to compose herself, not that she knows the area well enough to notice. She looks stunning. Her tears have dried. She's fixed the blotchy eye make-up, and the red blush that overcomes her face as Emmett's eyes meet hers is nothing he hasn't seen before.

"Just ignore them," Edward whispers. Considering that's exactly what she's been doing to him for the past thirty minutes, he figures it won't be too difficult of a task. "That's what I usually do."

Emmett Cullen can hardly believe his eyes. To see his lowlife stepbrother at an event for the Cullen Foundation is shocking enough, but the fact that he's getting handsy with their PR agent is almost unbelievable. Clearly the sassy consultant from Embry & Black who so adamantly rejected his advances isn't nearly as picky as she makes herself out to be.

Also in a state of disbelief is Bella, who is having a difficult time getting past Rosalie and her obvious beauty. What, exactly, did Emmett hope to gain from an affair with her? She could ruin him: his reputation, his marriage. And for what? Bella has nothing. No connections, no money, no boobs. There's no comparison between the two women. Rosalie might be a few years older than Bella, but she's gorgeous with flawless skin, blond curls, and curves in all the right places. Edward's sister-in-law, his mother... they're the perfect arm candy for events like this. If Bella ever wondered that she might be too good for Edward, she's definitely thinking the opposite is true now.

They hate Jasper. She assumes they'll probably hate her too.

Edward flashes his stepbrother an arrogant smirk, and the two brothers exchange a knowing glance—the kind that lets Emmett know Edward is onto him. That Bella is off limits, whether it's actually the case or not. The entire exchange goes right over Rosalie's head, but the same isn't true for Bella. She can't believe Edward is so bold as to engage his brother in some sort of territorial pissing contest, and why would he even bother? Her words in the car couldn't have been more clear: they're over. He's delusional. Insane. An arrogant asshole.

Was getting back at Emmett his intention all along?

It wasn't, but Edward will gladly admit irritating Emmett is an added bonus. With such a rich father, Emmett has always had quite the sense of entitlement. It's satisfying to know that, for once, the younger Doctor Cullen can't have _everything_ he wants.

"Your brother's wife is very pretty," Bella confesses when Rosalie and Emmett are out of earshot. It's the first time she's spoken since riding in the car, and Edward is surprised by the content of her idle conversation.

He laughs nervously. "She is, but it comes at a price."

"Dumber than rocks?"

"Being married to him, you'd think so."

"Well, what is it then?" she asks.

"The opposite," Edward explains. "Rosalie thinks she knows everything."

"Great," Bella says.

"Consider yourself warned." Whispering in her ear, he adds, "At least my date is pretty inside and out."

Indoors, everything is coming together nicely. A few of the guests have already started to arrive, and the oversized ballroom has the capacity for hundreds more. Edward is impressed. The Cullen Foundation's events are usually sloppy and unorganized. More than once his stepfather has considered going another route and even dropping their association with Embry & Black all together, but it's clear from the start that this year is different. Whoever planned this event put a lot of work into it, and while most would associate the success with Jacob's acquisition of the company, Edward knows better. This project is all Bella.

The hotel staff is hard at work; not one person stands idle. Those who are not filling glasses with water are futilely straightening table centerpieces, and Edward isn't the only one blown away by Bella's careful planning. Jacob and Carlisle stand together discussing last minute details. Both were reluctant when Bella suggested this hotel as a venue. The price was steep, but already they've seen an increase in interest from the area's corporations. All signs point toward success.

"I have to meet with the caterer."

Bella uses the excuse to slip away from Edward, even if only for a second. She's still furious with him, but with everything going on, it's easy for her to occupy her mind with other things. As she discusses the final head count, food allergies, and ensures that what they've ordered is in fact what's being served, her date seeks out his little sister. Alice and Jasper have yet to arrive, and after a falling out between mother and daughter earlier in the afternoon, he wonders if they'll even bother.

But Alice promised Edward she'd be here. She promised him she'd talk to Bella, to help her understand why he deceived her.

Bella seems happier now. Edward watches from a distance as she bumps into Jacob, and the smile on her face looks sincere. The hug they exchange causes Edward to frown—it's far more intimate than he would care to see. Bella is caught off guard by it as well, but she attributes Jake's open affection to the success of the benefit and its open bar. Judging from the scent of his breath, he's wasted no time in visiting it.

Then again, so has she.

Edward can't help himself. He approaches Bella and the handsy motherfucker as they discuss finite details and injects himself into their conversation. Hopefully her boss can take a hint. Jake knows who Edward is. They've met once, though only briefly. Even if they hadn't, Esme and Carlisle complain about their son often. They worry incessantly what he might do to sabotage the image of the foundation.

Jacob's eyes narrow. While he might remember Edward well, he doesn't recall introducing him to Bella.

"There you are, sweetheart," Edward says, a hand drifting possessively to her hip. "Dinner's starting soon. We should probably get settled."

Unfortunately for Bella, this also means, _let's go meet my parents._

"Right." Bella isn't dense. For the second time this evening, Edward has exhibited some sort of jealous claim over her, and the act is getting old. She waves him off, returning all of her attention to Jacob. It takes every bit of willpower she has not to roll her eyes. "Go ahead. I'll be over in a few seconds."

When Bella planned the Cullen Benefit, she had no idea she would be seated at its main table. But that's exactly where she finds herself a few minutes later, seeking out a date that's currently nowhere to be found. Bella didn't miss the way Edward stormed off as she spoke with her boss, but it serves him right. She correctly assumes he went outside for a smoke, and hesitantly lingers before taking a seat. The table is empty with one exception.

"I hope you're making him wrap it up," Rosalie jokes, but the negative undertone is hard to miss.

Initially Bella isn't paying attention, but Rosalie's opening statement is too bold to miss. "I'm sorry?"

"You're with _Edward_," she responds as if the reasoning is painfully obvious. "Surely you know his reputation."

Bella shrugs, her response noncommittal. As pissed as she is at Edward, she isn't about to badmouth him with a member of his extended family. And as much as Bella desperately wants to comment on Emmett's advances, she chooses to take the high road. Ever the PR agent, she's committed to maintaining her client's image.

Or something like that.

"We're just friends," Bella insists. At this point, even that is a longshot.

"Oh, I figured," Rosalie laughs. "You couldn't possibly be his girlfriend because he wouldn't know the meaning of the word. Monogamy isn't really his thing, is it?"

It's not Emmett's either. Bella bites her lip. "I don't really care either way."

Rose continues, "Well, no respectable woman would ever want anything to do with him."

The implication is there. She's calling Bella a slut. Rosalie might think she's being intimidating, but in reality she's only making a fool of herself. Bella can't help but laugh. Edward is no saint, she knows this. But neither is Emmett, and Bella finds it ironic that "respectable" women probably fuck her husband everyday, yet she was the one to refuse.

"Fucking Dad's PR agent," Emmett says, bumping into his brother in line for the open bar. "Classy."

"Shut the fuck up," Edward warns. "You're not one to talk."

There's no shame present in Emmett's tone. "Can you blame me for trying?"

Edward's hand balls into a fist. "I hope she tells your wife. You're an asshole."

"Yeah, and so are you. What are you trying to accomplish anyway?" Emmett asks.

"Who says I'm trying to accomplish anything?"

"Fucking her won't get you back into their good graces," Emmett says confidently. He thinks he has Edward figured out. "She's a PR agent, not a saint."

"Have you met Edward's date?"

Rosalie's tone is condescending as Esme approaches the table. She adds a few choice words in her head: _whore, slut, prostitute. _They're words that would probably give Edward's mother a heart attack if said aloud.

"Bella is our PR agent," Edward interrupts, also finding his way to the table. He watches as Rosalie's expression melts from confidence to sheer horror. Her eyes look as if they're about to pop out of her skull. She knows she's in trouble. If Esme finds out about half the things she's said to sabotage Edward's reputation to the one person dedicated to maintaining it, she won't be happy.

"Oh," is all she can say.

It takes a few painfully awkward seconds for Esme to make the connection, but when she does, her face is ecstatic. Bella's is bright red. "Why didn't you tell me?" Esme beams, rushing to greet Bella with a warm hug. "Finally, my son does _something_ right!"

She desperately hopes its a precursor for things to come.

"Quick, somebody write a press release," Emmett jokes. "Oh, wait."

"Well, isn't that convenient?" Rosalie chimes in. Their cocky smirks make Bella feel sick.

"Enough," Carlisle scolds, appearing out of nowhere. His voice is firm. He does not mimic his wife's excitement. "We'll talk about this later."

Edward wants to be surprised, but he's not. His stepfather is extremely critical of everything else he does, so why would his friendship with Bella be judged any differently? She feels very awkward. Out of place. All the insecurities Edward would have dismissed earlier as invalid are basically confirmed, and the sad expression on her face says it all. Edward should have never brought her here. He should have known better than to throw her to the wolves.

He grabs her hand, each of them needing a little of the other's support.

Bella and Edward aren't blinded by the spotlight for long. Everyone's attention shifts immediately when Jasper and Alice arrive. They're late. Carlisle is surprised the two bothered showing up at all. Esme wishes they hadn't. The benefit is no place for tattooed wanna-be rockstars. Jasper is a worthless, community college drop-out intent on dating a woman much too young for him, and Bella immediately understands what Edward means when he says his parents despise him.

She offers him the seat next to her. If they're outcasts, at least they can be outcasts together.

Bella and Edward eat dinner mostly in silence, working themselves into the conversation only when necessary. The same is true for Alice and Jasper. Bella is graceful. Jasper's answers are short but polite. Edward is quiet. Bella watches as he shifts his pasta from one side of his plate to the other, committing much more attention to his food than necessary. It's obvious he's uncomfortable. The night is almost over when one of Carlisle's physician friends speaks directly to him, and he looks up, unable to avoid it.

"So, Edward, this time last year you were gearing up for your first year of medical school. How's the University of Illinois treating you?"

Rosalie stifles a laugh. Carlisle bites his tongue. Bella, shocked with the information, is eager to see how Edward responds.

"I—" he begins.

"Edward is taking a bit of a hiatus," Esme speaks quickly, interrupting before Edward can say more.

It's a lie. Edward isn't taking a break. He's done. His parents have done all they can do. They've followed through on all of the threats: from cancelling his credit cards to throwing him out onto the street. Edward is unaffected by their coercion and stands firm in his decision to drop out. He's living his life. Happily.

They're not happy.

"I was offered an opportunity I couldn't pass up," Edward explains carefully. "Playing piano has always been my passion."

Carlisle should leave it alone, but he doesn't. He's had a little too much to drink. "This kid, I swear," he sighs. "I gave him the world, you know? Ever since his father died, I've tried hard to fill that spot. I sent him to the best private school system in Chicago. He never had to want for _anything_. I gave him a life he never could've imagined, and only asked for one thing in return—that he follow me into my profession. So that someday he can provide for his own family. Like my biological son, Emmett."

"Carlisle," Esme warns. This is not the time or place.

He chuckles, his frustration evident. "You've always been too easy on him. And maybe that's the problem. Maybe he's just spoiled."

Edward's jaw is tight. Bella watches with horror as he fights the urge to dignify his stepfather with a response.

"Daddy, stop," Alice begs.

"And would you look at that? His sister just like him." Carlisle points across the table. Edward grabs Bella's hand again. She squeezes it tight. "Dating one of Edward's low life friends, even. You know, son, it's one thing to destroy your own life. But to bring your sister down with you is inexcusable. You ought to be ashamed."

"I have to get out of here."

Edward doesn't waste any time before standing up and striding toward the exit. He doesn't wait for Bella, nor does he intend for her to follow. Why would she? As she so sternly insisted earlier, they're done. His night has only gone from bad to worse, and there's little chance for it to be redeemed now. Jasper and Alice prepare to make their exit as well, each intolerable of the way Carlisle treats them.

Bella hesitates for only a moment before following after her friend. The benefit might be her baby, but it's almost over anyway. She looks around. It seems that no one outside of the table has noticed Dr. Cullen and Edward's exchange. It'll be forgotten. Things will move forward. The night is a success, and there's no reason at this point for her to stay.

Besides, there are questions she wants answered. It feels wrong learning about the situation from Carlisle and Esme as they bicker back and forth. Edward dropped out of medical school. So what? In the scheme of life, it seems minor. It's not like he's addicted to heroin. Bella makes a career out of damage control, but Edward choosing his own career hardly seems like something to write about.

A long and steady drag from his cigarette calms Edward's nerves as he waits for the valet, and his mind drifts to Bella. Maybe he should go back inside. He's her ride, after all. He regrets leaving her, especially when there's so much more he wants to say. He wants to tell her everything. But would she listen? Does she even care?

Giving up when things get tough. It's Edward's specialty, or so his stepfather would say. He glides through life, always taking the easy way out. But not tonight. He takes one final drag of his cigarette and throws it down, turning back toward the entrance of the hotel. He's determined. He's not leaving Bella behind, not letting her go. His eyes widen as he sees her pacing toward him, and relief floods his heart as he realizes, maybe, things won't be so hard after all.


	11. so you know who we are

"Edward, wait!"

Bella rushes toward her friend, but the pace is slowed by the height of her heels. From the distance she sees his car arrive in the valet. He's leaving—not that she's surprised. His words were pretty clear: _I have to get out of here. _She doesn't blame him. No one wants to stick around as their stepfather publicly belittles them. She thought, at the very least, if he were going somewhere, he might take her too.

Right?

Her own words from earlier in the evening echo inside her head. She had been so definite. But the car ride to the benefit seems so long ago, and so much has happened since that it's almost impossible to reconcile the way she feels with how she felt. He withheld information. Almost humiliated her in front of her coworkers, his family. Now it seems that Edward himself is no stranger to humiliation. She can't help but feel sympathy for him and sorry for the way she acted.

Does she want anything to do with him?

He turns around at the exact moment she says his name, and the conflict etched onto his face is obvious. Almost immediately it morphs into relief. Edward smiles, though only momentarily, and Bella realizes she finds a lot of comfort in that smile. It's the only thing recognizable in a city so far from home. Before she met Edward, she had been so lonely. The feeling isn't fun, and it isn't anything she's in a rush to repeat.

"Seriously?" she scoffs. "What, were you just going to leave me here?"

He sighs, running a shaky hand through his hair. "I'm sorry." It's better than saying nothing.

"You should be," she warns.

Edward opens the passenger door for Bella and guides her into the car. Shutting it with a firm slam, he walks around to the driver's side and climbs inside. The atmosphere around them is a mixture of tension and relief. On one hand the night is over, but what measures as success for Bella also serves as failure for Edward. At least they're alone. Together. It means something, even if there is still much left for them to work through.

"I was coming back for you," he ventures carefully, his voice hushed.

"I believe you." She's feeling sympathetic. She doesn't want to fight. "Just... don't worry about it, okay?"

The two are quiet for a few seconds, with Edward focusing all of his attention on the road ahead. He isn't sure how to begin or what to say. Luckily Bella takes the lead.

"Jesus Christ. No offense, Edward, but your family is crazy."

He can't help but smile again. There's no argument there. "Do you see now why I don't want anything to do with them?"

"I do," Bella says. "I mean, what the fuck? It's a miracle you and Alice are actually normal."

He side eyes her. "Are you sure about that?"

"Maybe not." Bella teases, "You do live in a cardboard box."

Edward laughs. It's just what they need to loosen the tension. "I thought the benefit itself was great, though."

He's deflecting. Talking about the benefit is safe. Deciding to tell Bella about his family is one thing. Forcing the words to come out is another entirely.

"Think so? I ran into Jacob on the way out. He said he wasn't feeling well. I hope it isn't food poisoning."

"Serves him right." The smirk on Edward's face is mischievous.

"Jealous, much?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Should I be?"

"Not at all," Bella assures her friend. "On second thought, I hope he does have food poisoning. He deserves it for shorting me on my overtime last week."

As Edward takes the highway toward Bella's apartment, the two continue to engage in conversation, though the subjects are nothing substantial. It's mostly small talk about the benefit and the finite details only Bella cares to notice. They're tip-toeing around the issue at hand. Bella doesn't want to bring up Edward's family again. She doesn't demand answers or press for information. The ball is in Edward's court. She wants him to _want_ to tell her.

He doesn't. By the time they arrive back at Bella's apartment complex, the conversation has died and the air around them is quiet again. Things are tense as Edward shuts off the ignition, and Bella looks at him strangely when he opens his door to get out. Not wanting to fight is one thing, but surely he doesn't think she's letting him off the hook that easy.

"I'll walk you up." He doesn't leave it open for negotiation.

She carries her heels and trudges up the stairs to the second floor with Edward following closely behind. He sticks his hands in his pockets and keeps his head down, having been to her apartment so many times that he blindly knows the way. He's calculating. Time is running out. One wrong move and everything will be over. It's a wonder Bella has even let him come this far.

She stops at her front door, fidgeting momentarily with the key. The lock sticks. She's complained to the landlord for weeks to no avail. Once the doorknob finally turns freely, she looks up from it to meet his eyes.

"Edward?" Bella asks after a few seconds of silence.

Ever so slightly, he's shaking. His nerves are shot—the benefit proved to be too much. Tears well in his eyes, but he doesn't cry. He's fighting it. Fighting hard to keep the emotions at bay. His arm finds its way around her waist, and the other caresses her back. He pulls her in for a close hug, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

She doesn't resist, knowing he needs this, and lets herself be whatever he needs.

He lifts his head and presses his lips to hers for a kiss. He moves slow and sensual. It encompasses all of the emotion and desperation Edward feels; all of the things he wants to say but doesn't know how. As they stand in the hallway with lips locked and tongues swirling, neither makes a move to progress or pull away. It's only a matter of time before Edward's mood begins to shift. Emotion is replaced with instinct, and lust takes over. For Edward, it's the most natural reaction. Intimacy through sex is easy, especially with Bella. Intimate conversations, on the other hand, are much harder.

Bella, sensing the shift in his mood, pulls away. She knows better.

"Come inside," she whispers, grabbing him by the hand and leading the way. "We need to talk"

"My dad died when I was five."

They're in the living room now. Bella has changed from her dress into something much more comfortable. A t-shirt hangs low on her body. It shows less skin than Edward would prefer, but at least it's his shirt, or it was before Bella stole it. His jacket hangs off the side of the couch. He fidgets with his already loose tie, having already undone the top few buttons on his shirt.

"Wow." Bella sits next to him on the couch, wineglass in hand. "Five is such a young age to lose a parent. I mean, not that there's ever a good time."

He stares at the ceiling, nodding. "Lung cancer. The man never even smoked a day in his life. Do you know what the odds of that are?"

Bella shakes her head. She has no idea, other than that they're probably very slim.

"He was only twenty-five," Edward continues. "The same age I am now."

"And yet you smoke," Bella mutters.

He ignores her. "My mom met Carlisle when Dad started treatment."

"Were they married?" she asks.

"Mom and Dad? Yes. Did that stop her? No."

"No." Bella grabs Edward's hand. "Are you saying your mom cheated on your dad? When he was sick?"

"He could offer her things Dad couldn't, I guess. They got married two weeks after he died. I wore the same fucking outfit to the wedding as I did to the funeral."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Any ill feelings Bella already had toward the Cullen family pale in comparison to her opinion now. "That's so fucked up, Edward. I'm so sorry."

"Alice was born seven months later."

"Is she..." Bella doesn't finish the sentence.

"Carlisle's." He pulls his hand back, making it into a tight first. "The fucked up thing about this all is that I've always wondered, you know? Did he know? Was he too sick to care? Or did he want it this way? My dad died without a penny to his name. We were broke, Bella. Until Carlisle swooped in to save the day. So was it better this way? Is everyone happier, better off, because my dad died?" His voice is loud now. He's trembling.

"No!" Bella doesn't know what to say. "I—"

"Sometimes I wonder if Carlisle even tried to save him."

"Sweetheart, that's crazy." And exactly what a man—a boy—struggling to come to terms with his father's death might think.

"Is it?" Edward asks. "Would you put it past him?"

Bella can't answer honestly. No, she wouldn't.

"Every couple I've ever been around is a miserable failure," he says, shifting course. "And people wonder why I'm never getting married. Why I hate relationships."

"Did your dad love your mom?"

"Did he?" Edward asks. "I think he did, but sometimes I wonder if maybe I'm just remembering things the way I want."

"Makes sense," Bella agrees. She runs her fingers through his hair. "My mom left me when I was three. I haven't really heard from her since."

"That's such bullshit," Edward spouts. "What kind of mother just leaves her daughter like that?"

"Not a very good one," she says. "Now my dad's sick, and I don't know what to do. I feel so lost. It's not fair, you know? I don't get why my only good parent has to be the one dying."

Edward is the only person in the world who could possibly understand. "I know," he says.

Silence fills the apartment as Bella crawls onto Edward's lap. There's nothing more to be said. She needs to be close to him, and he needs her in the same way. Bella begins to litter Edward's neck with kisses that trail toward his lips. She undoes the remaining buttons of his shirt one by one, breaking away only long enough to pull the tie over his head. His hands trace a path of their own, starting at the small of her back and working their way lower to her ass. Bella's satin sleep shorts leave little to the imagination.

Her shirt ends up on the floor. He stands without breaking their kiss and walks them to her bedroom just as he has so many times before. This time feels different. He isn't holding back. There's nothing to hide. She knows the man he is, and she accepts him for exactly that.

It's more than he can say about anyone else. The girls he's slept with in the past only cared about the contents of his wallet. Carlisle and Esme's only concern is their image. Bella doesn't care about any of that, only Edward and the way he makes her feel... which, judging from the moans that escape her mouth as he lays her against the mattress, is pretty goddamn good.

"Should've held onto that tie," Edward whispers against her lips. "Could've had some fun."

"Are you insinuating this won't be?" she teases, unzipping his slacks.

He's quick to respond. As soon as she touches his dick, he won't be able to form a coherent thought. "Not at all."

"I want you," she says, sliding his slacks and boxers low.

He groans, bare skin touching the only article of clothing Bella has left.

"These fucking shorts need to go," he mutters.

They're off, along with the rest of Edward's clothes, in a matter of seconds. Skin presses against skin. Bella takes the lead, grabbing Edward's dick and sliding it between her legs.

"Fuck," he hisses. "You have no idea how good that feels."

She has _some _idea. He thrusts slightly, causing just the tip to enter. Any second now, he expects her to stop him. They've never gone bare before. Hell, Edward has never gone bare, period, but tonight he wants it more than anything.

She meets his thrust with her own.

"Edward," Bella says. He holds his breath, waiting for words of warning. There's no way she hasn't noticed. Could it really slip her mind? Or does she want it too? He doesn't want to ask, for fear that she might say no. One more thrust, he decides, then he'll be a good boy. Do the responsible thing. But one turns into two. Two turn into more, and before he even realizes what's happening, he has to slow down.

He knew going bareback would be intense, but he never expected it to feel like this.

"Are you sure this is okay?" she asks, sensing Edward's hesitance. "We can—"

"No—" The grin on his face lights up the room as he realizes they're on the same page. "This is great. Perfect. I'm just...a little too excited. That's all."

The obvious dawns on Bella. "Oh." She giggles.

He captures her lips with his and very slowly begins to set the pace. The way she feels to him is indescribable. It's like nothing he's ever experienced before, and he knows it will be over all too soon. Fortunately for Edward, though, Bella gets hers. It sends him past the point of no return—the feeling of her walls constricting around him, of fingernails digging into his skin. It's all too much. Edward comes loud and hard without even giving a thought to whether he should pull out or not. He doesn't.

After getting up to take her birth control, Bella crawls back into Edward's arms. He's spent, but she's nowhere near ready to fall asleep. The events from the day replay in her head. Her mind is in overdrive, and as conversations repeat, it occurs to her to ask Edward one last thing.

"Hey, what'd your dad do for a living?"

A barely conscious Edward provides the answer. "He was a musician."

**AN: Happy Easter! Or should I say, _Hoppy _Easter?! Har har ;)**


	12. Please keep the reporters at bay

It's a slow Monday morning at Embry & Black when Bella rounds the corner into the break room, exhausted from the busy weekend. There's only one thing on the forefront of her mind: coffee. In order to get through the day, she's going to need at least a gallon of it. Unfortunately the last person to fill their mug also forgot to rebrew. The pot is almost empty, and Bella curses silently as she begins to go through the necessary steps to start another brew.

As the machine hums and dark liquid begins to accumulate in the bottom of the pot, she scolds herself for staying up so late. There's a messy haired boy to blame too, but it's hard to fight the smile that creeps over her face as she thinks back on their weekend together. It's amazing how quickly things can change. Saturday she had been so frustrated with him, and with herself. It all seems so silly now. It's safe to say she's over it. But she's not over him.

Things are different now. Easier. Edward opens up. He'll answer questions when Bella asks them and volunteer information when she doesn't. In the past forty-eight hours, she's learned a lot about the man who often shares her bed. They spent most of yesterday lying in it, after all, but that doesn't exactly account for why Bella is so tired this morning. They might have been lying, but they definitely weren't sleeping. She blushes at the thought, and it surprises her that after an entire weekend together, she can't wait to see him again.

"Tired?"

Bella looks up to see Jacob and immediately diverts her attention back to the coffee pot. His eyes skim her outfit, dwelling in all of the wrong places.

"Very," she says.

"Aren't we all?"

"Typical Monday," she agrees, too tired for idle conversation.

"Mind if I talk to you in my office for a second?"

He speaks the words that always put Bella on edge. It doesn't matter that their talks are usually positive, or that she's done nothing wrong. Jacob makes her very nervous, and suddenly Bella is very alert. The coffee she so desperately needed only seconds ago is quickly forgotten.

"The numbers are in," Jake begins as he shuts the door behind them. "Between the corporate pledges, silent auction, and miscellaneous donations, we've managed to raise three times as much as projected."

Bella's eyes go wide. She knew from preliminary observations on Saturday that the numbers were good, but she definitely hadn't expected it to be quite so much. "Are you serious?"

"Doctor Cullen called first thing this morning to congratulate us for hosting such a successful evening. He's very impressed with you, Bella. As am I."

"Thank you." Bella bites her tongue. Considering the information provided by Edward, it's a struggle to keep her personal feelings toward Carlisle separate from the professional.

"It would seem you've made quite an impression on Dr. Cullen's youngest son as well."

Jacob's primary motivation for calling Bella into his office might be to discuss the benefit, but there's something else he's dying to know. And while Bella just thinks Jacob is being chatty, it would be painfully obvious to anyone else that there are ulterior motives behind his statement.

She plays right into it. "Oh, Edward and I are just friends."

It might be the truth, but saying so makes Bella's heart heavy. Lately she's had a difficult time defining what she and Edward are, and more importantly, what he wants. With all the progress made, one thing sticks out in her mind. The other night Edward made himself very clear: he despises relationships. Marriage isn't in his future, but it's something Bella ultimately wants. With someone. Eventually. But Edward's actions aren't exactly consistent with his words, and Bella is left discontent and confused. There's only one thing she knows for certain.

She wants more.

A few hours pass before Edward finally rolls out of bed. It should be weird, being in Bella's apartment without her, but he's gotten used to spending his mornings alone over the past few weeks. It's good for the neighbors to see a male presence there, or so he tells himself. The area she lives in isn't dangerous, per se, but it's not the greatest either. Chicago in general is a dangerous city. No one needs to know there's a beautiful young woman living alone. Edward takes his time getting ready, depleting all the hot water before stealing back one of his clean shirts. Bella likes to sleep in them, he's noticed. He leaves the dirty one in her clothes hamper.

There's a key on the kitchen counter for Edward to lock up. This has become their typical routine: Bella leaves early for work while Edward lingers, having nowhere better to be. Today, though, is not typical for him at all. He's meeting his mother for lunch at her insistence. And while there are a million people he'd rather see, the events of the weekend have brought up several questions that he desperately wants the answers to. There are things he deserves to know, and he's determined to find them out.

Edward is just about to head out the door when he notices the cat's empty food bowl. Bella must have been too rushed this morning to refill it. Momentarily he considers letting the little demon starve. A few hours won't kill him, after all, and his delusional owner will be home this afternoon to coddle him with the love he doesn't deserve. The thought of Bella giving something so annoying so much affection causes Edward's eyes to roll. The thing really is a pain the ass.

He fills the bowl anyway, unaware of his jealousy for a goddamn cat.

Esme allows Edward to chose the restaurant. He picks Meyers Pizzeria because of both its vicinity to Bella's apartment and for the sentimental value it holds. There's no way the place doesn't remind his mother of the man she committed her life to twenty-six years ago—Edward's biological father. She's waiting alone outside the entrance when Edward arrives. He's ten minutes late.

"Edward." Her tone is as overly affectionate as her hug. He bites his tongue. Clearly the woman is overcompensating. "I'm really glad you could meet me today."

"It's not like I had anything better to do."

Neither look at the overhead menu displayed for all to see. They already know what to order. The place hasn't changed since Edward was a small child. After the two fill their drinks, they make their way to a small booth in the corner.

Esme wastes no time. "I want to apologize on behalf of your father."

"He's not my father."

"Don't be like that, sweetheart. You know Carlisle loves you as if you were his own."

Edward isn't convinced. "Does he?"

"Of course he does!" She's insistent. "He feels terrible for the way he treated you at the benefit. You know how he gets after a few drinks."

"Right."

"It's true. He had no right to say the things he did."

"But he said them anyway," he sighs.

"He made an ass of himself, and he knows it," Esme says.

"Yeah? Then why doesn't he bother apologizing himself?"

"You know he's busy." They both know it's a lie. Carlisle doesn't see patients on Mondays, and it's a nice day—one that's great for golfing, or so he told Esme.

The waitress stops by the table with their food, and they're temporarily distracted by a mess of cheese and pepperoni as mother and son begin to devour their first pieces. Edward takes a long drink from his soda before restarting the conversation.

"Why'd you do it, anyway?"

The question is so random and subtle that Esme has no idea what her son is referencing. "What?"

"I mean, you were happy with Dad, right? Before he got sick?"

Esme's fork clacks against her plate. She has no idea how to respond. "Edward..."

"I'm not a little kid anymore, Mom. I deserve to know the truth."

Esme touches her hand to her face. She holds herself together. "It wasn't like that. I loved your father. Not a day goes by—"

He cuts her off. "Bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

His words are crystal clear. "I said, 'bullshit.' I want the truth."

"What do you want me to say?" she wonders aloud. "You don't know what it was like. You weren't in my position. I was your age, Edward! Twenty-five! What was I supposed to do? How was I going to provide for you? Put food on our table. Clothes on your back. We were having a hard enough time as it was, before Ed got sick."

"So you did it for his money, then? Classy."

"I did it because I was scared!" She defends herself. "I was grieving. I needed somebody who understood."

"And Dad's fucking doctor happened to be just the right person," Edward concludes.

"Carlisle cared. He went out of his way to make me feel better. To assure me that everything was going to be okay."

"I'll bet he did," he mutters.

Edward's inference makes his mother even more defensive. "It wasn't always like that. Things just... happened."

He has to ask. "Did he know? Was he too sick to care?"

Esme's head hangs in shame. She's fighting back her emotions. "He suspected."

"And what? He just gave up?" The idea makes Edward very sad.

"Your father worried about you. His only priority was to make sure you were okay."

"Even if it meant giving me to someone else."

Edward is angry. His hands shake under the table, and he bites his lip to fight back unwanted tears. He knows he's being irrational. It wasn't like his father had a choice in the matter. Ed Masen is gone. Dead. His only remnant is the son who shares his name. A son who cannot come to terms with the death of his father, even after twenty years.

"Have you thought about going back to therapy?"

"I don't need any more fucking therapy," Edward snaps.

"Does being with Bella help?" she asks.

It does.

"I'm not with Bella." He corrects his mother. "We're just friends."

"I'm not stupid, son. Your sister says you haven't spent the night at Jasper's apartment in weeks."

He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. "Fine." It's as close as he'll come to confessing. "Things with Bella are complicated."

"How so?"

"She doesn't want a relationship."

"At all?" Esme asks. "Or with you?"

"Probably both," Edward laughs. "Let's face it, Mom. I'm not exactly the kind of guy you want to bring home to the parents."

The conversation heads in an obvious direction. "You could be."

"Forget it. I'm not going back to school."

"I know," she says. "And I'm not going to make you. But speaking of school, there is something else we need to talk about."

He finishes off his second slice of pizza. "Great."

"The benefit got us talking, and Carlisle and I have decided that we're going to try to be more accepting of your career choice."

Translation: The argument of the century broke out between Carlisle and Esme after the benefit. Ultimatums were given.

"Right."

"A few of our leases are due to expire at the end of the month. Pick an apartment, and it's yours."

"What if I don't want an apartment?" he asks.

"Honey," she chuckles. "Don't be too prideful to take help when you need it."

She certainly didn't.

* * *

"Is something bothering you?"

It isn't the first time Bella has asked. Edward has been acting strange ever since meeting up with her after work. He spent most of the evening in her living room, toying with his guitar and avoiding conversation. The two ate take out for dinner in awkward silence, and afterward Edward suggested they watch a movie. They didn't exactly pay attention to the television though, smashing Bella's paranoid suspicion that she might have done something to upset him. Things had been going so well, but now she's confused again.

"I ate lunch with my mom today."

They're in bed now. The lights are out, and like this morning, Bella is exhausted. She searches out his figure in the dark, moving closer to him and slinging an arm around his waist. Edward mimics the gesture.

"Seriously?" Bella is surprised he's waited so long to say something. "Why didn't you say something before? How'd that go?" she asks.

But from the way he's acted all afternoon, she already knows.

"She apologized."

"Good."

"We talked. I got a few of the answers I wanted. But not all."

"Oh." Bella isn't sure how much information to press for. She decides it might be best to follow Edward's lead.

"My parents, they do real estate on the side. It's something Carlisle's father started doing when he was younger. Mom likes to decorate, so she's kind of taken it over in recent years."

"Really?" Bella isn't sure where their conversation is going.

"I used to live in one of their units. They kicked me out, of course, when they found out I was skipping out at school, but my mom says they're going to be more accepting of my choices from now on. They told me they'd give me another place to live."

To Bella, it all sounds too good to be true. It's also an idea she doesn't like. At all. "Great," she lies.

"Jasper moved out on his own when he started dating Alice. He had been living with his parents, devoting all his money and attention to the band. But he wanted to make a good impression, to show Mom and Carlisle that he could be good for her."

"Wow."

"Fucking sell-out, right? He's such a pussy," Edward sidetracks. "So I've been staying with him, helping with rent. But if I go back out on my own, I can't necessarily do that."

"And he can't necessarily move in with you, either." Bella sees another side to his dilemma. If Edward has his own apartment, he's much less likely to crash at hers.

"Right."

"So don't do it." It's selfish for her to say.

Edward sighs. He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't know," he says. "Lately I feel like I need to get my shit together, you know? It's time to grow up, and having my own place again would be nice. Besides, I never stay at Jasper's these days anyway. With how often I stay here, I should be paying you rent."

Bella gasps. "Is that what this is about, hobo? Are you using me for my bed?"

"You do have soft sheets," he teases her. A long kiss between the two emphasizes exactly why he's here—sex.

Bella breaks away. "So, what are you saying?"

"I think I'm going to take it," he confesses. But the kiss has his mind wandering, and he wants nothing more than to be done with this conversation. He kisses her again, and his hands move lower.

Bella kisses him back, but her mind isn't in the game. She isn't sure what to say, but she doesn't like his decision. It makes her feel uneasy. She doesn't want to admit it, but she likes having the leg up in their arrangement. She finds security in the fact that he has no real place to stay. But if Edward is moving out, does that mean he's also moving on?

**AN: This little piggy went WHEEEEE all the way to England and back (and apparently spends way too much time communicating with an 8 month old..) Sorry for the update delay, I was off globetrotting and having a blast. I love you guise. Thanks for sticking with me.**


	13. This is a matter of life and death

"I miss you too, Daddy."

The conversation drags on, just as they usually do. Bella collapses onto the couch next to Edward and rolls her eyes, signaling to him that she'll be off the phone soon. He waits patiently. Quietly, too—it might be eight in Forks, Washington, but it's two hours later in Chicago, and something tells Edward that Bella's father might not take too kindly to a male presence in his daughter's apartment so late at night. Charlie's a police chief, Bella had said. Sick or not, his profession alone is enough to scare the shit out of Edward.

She leans her head against Edward's shoulder. His hands find their way to her waist. It's not that Bella doesn't like catching up with her father. She loves their every now and again phone calls, but Charlie can be a little overbearing. He worries. Unnecessarily. She knows that. Lately it seems that once she gets on the phone with him, it's almost impossible to end the call.

"I hope you're locking up at night," Charlie sighs into the phone. "I still don't understand why you had to move to one of the most dangerous cities in America."

Bella grins. She gets the same lecture from Edward on the rare nights that they're apart. "Relax. I'm fine. I can take care of myself."

"Still got that pepper spray?" he asks.

"Same bottle you gave me in high school."

"Had to use it yet?" Charlie jokes. "Your new boyfriend does know how to keep his hands to himself, doesn't he?"

"Dad!" She hopes to god Edward doesn't overhear. He looks at her, curious and clueless.

Crisis averted.

Her father laughs. Clearly he's hit the nail right on its head. Bella's vague reply confirms exactly what Charlie has suspected for weeks. She must be seeing someone. "Don't act like I haven't noticed. Recently your phone calls are becoming few and far between."

It's true. When Bella first moved to Chicago, she was lonely and called home often. This hasn't been the case since meeting Edward. "I've been busy."

"Too busy for your old man?"

"You know that's not true." Bella quickly changes the subject. "How's Sue?"

Charlie's wife is no replacement for Bella's biological mother, but she does her best. Sue has two kids of her own. Seth and Leah are older than Bella, though not by much. Their father died while they were still in high school, and their mother only started dating Charlie after Bella left for college. The two married a couple of years later, just before discovering Charlie's illness.

It comforts Bella to know her dad isn't alone. Sue is the only reason Bella could fathom moving so far away. She would never leave him to fend for himself, but with Sue around, Bella knows he'll be taken care of. Sue makes Charlie happy.

His only worry is who will take care of Bella after he's gone.

Bella doesn't speak much when she and Charlie finally end their call. She flips absent mindedly through the television channels, unable to find anything that catches her attention. She's distracted. It's been a few months since she moved away from home, and while she doesn't miss it nearly as much as she used to, it would be nice to visit sometime soon. Charlie mentioned that he's sleeping on the couch now. The stairs are too much.

It won't be long.

"Are you okay?"

It's only after he asks the question that she allows the tears to well in her eyes. Bella hates feeling vulnerable, but she can't force herself to keep her guard up. Edward sighs, pulling her close for a hug. She buries her face into the crook of his neck and softly cries. They remain in an embrace as Edward decides the best course of action. Comforting a crying girl isn't exactly his forte.

"Need a distraction?" He's joking. Sort of. His eyebrows wiggle, as if what he's implying wasn't already obvious.

Despite it all, she laughs. "Period, remember?"

"Right." How could he forget? "No wonder you're such a fucking basket case."

"You're the one who insisted on spending the night with me anyway."

"Well, I'm not really a fan of all those stupid pillows on your bed, but it's still better than sleeping in my cardboard box."

"It's all about the goddamn sheets, isn't it?"

"Not entirely." He smirks. "Because even though I wish you'd swallow, I still like it when you suck my dick."

Bella playfully slaps Edward's shoulder but doesn't comment otherwise. Her lips are too busy elsewhere. Being so late at night, Edward has already stripped down to his boxer briefs. She presses her lips to every inch of his exposed skin—from his neck to his thighs, neglecting only what's covered by thin fabric that leaves little to the imagination. He groans, too wrapped up in the anticipation of pleasure to feel guilt over the fact that the beautiful girl who had been crying only minutes ago is somehow trying to make him feel good.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes. His hands instinctively go to the back of her head as she takes him deep.

Within minutes he's guiding her, thrusting his hips and willing himself to last for as long as possible. He knows he's close. No matter how many times Bella sucks his dick, she still makes him feel as if his stamina is lacking. This woman is his weakness. And when she gags from being fucked too rough, too fast, there's nothing Edward can do to hold back. He comes hard, biting his tongue to keep the noise low.

She swallows.

Obscenities flow from Edward's tongue as Bella looks up at him with hooded eyes. She tucks his dick back into his underwear, saying nothing and carrying on as if what happened is nothing out of the ordinary. As if it's something she's always done. For a split second he wonders if he's lost his mind or slipped into some sort of alternate dimension. If not for the sound of his heart racing in his ears, he might wonder if he's dead.

"Come on, Hobo. Time for bed."

Bella turns off the television and heads straight for her bedroom. She leaves Edward dumbfounded and alone, and for the first time, it occurs to him that he might be in love with her.

The realization is accompanied by another: he's a fucking asshole. His pulse is starting to slow, and all of the guilt he was too worked up to feel moments ago begins to set in. Bella was hurting. She needed comfort, not a distraction. And to make matters worse, there hadn't even been anything in it for her.

"Fuck," he sighs, rubbing his hand over his eyes. He stands and makes his way through the darkness to Bella's bedroom, willing to be whatever she needs.

"How's Charlie?"

Edward asks the question as Bella emerges from her en suite bathroom, teeth brushed and ready for bed. She turns on the ceiling fan before crawling next to him and wastes no time snuggling close. His question catches her off guard, but Edward's concern is genuine. Lips brush against her forehead. Affectionate touches mimic the soft tone of his voice.

"Not good," Bella says. It's much easier to hold herself together now. "It sounds like the chemo is taking a lot out of him."

Edward nods. "Treatment is hell."

"He says he sleeps on the couch a lot. It's hard for him to make it up the stairs."

"Does he have someone other than your stepmom to help him?"

Bella shifts her body even closer to his. She knows how much Charlie hates asking for help. "My stepbrother is usually around."

Edward kisses Bella's forehead again. "Can I ask you something?"

She sighs, feigning annoyance. "I suppose."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but if your dad is so sick, why did you move here?"

Bella proceeds to open up, explaining to Edward her motivation for taking a job so far from home. She tells him about her childhood and the hardships Charlie faced as a single dad: the cold nights they went without heat, living on a steady diet of frozen juice and ramen noodles. Some secrets she's never told anyone. Edward listens intently. He tries to understand, but the reality of poverty is somewhat of a foreign concept to him. It's hard to relate.

She needed to see a different life. Getting an education had been so important, not only to Bella but to Charlie as well. When graduation came around, finding a career to support herself wasn't something Bella could be afford to be choosy about. Charlie's illness gets worse everyday. The last thing she wants is to burden him or her stepmom.

With a degree in public relations, finding a job in Forks was pretty much out of the question. The small town she grew up in doesn't even lay claim to a McDonald's, and needless to say its job market is lacking. She first searched in the Seattle area for work but kept coming up dry. It took weeks for Bella to get a call back, and her lack of experience made landing an interview almost impossible.

Desperation set in. When she began looking outside of the state, Embry & Black was the first company to extend an offer. She accepted the job without hesitation. It didn't matter that she knew nothing about Chicago, or that Charlie disapproved of its high crime rate. It was a job. Graduation came and went, and before she knew it she was on a plane.

"I do get homesick sometimes," she says at the conclusion of her story. "I miss my dad. And I miss living in Seattle. The things I would do for a cheeseburger from Red Mill..."

"The place must have a good homeless scene if you miss it so much."

"It does, actually." She bites her lip. He's never going to let it go. "You'd fit right in."

"I'll bet they have an awesome local music scene. Is Seattle far from Forks?"

"It's about two and a half hours. You have to take a ferry."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering." He shrugs. After a few seconds of silence, he works up the courage to continue. "You know, if you're homesick, maybe we should get out of town for a weekend."

Bella scoffs. "Yeah, right."

"Why not? You've been complaining about work being slow all week. And Black gave you those extra hours of vacation for all the work you put into the benefit."

"Well, for one, if I brought you home to meet Charlie, one or both of us probably won't live long enough to catch our return flight." She pauses. The mere thought brings butterflies to her stomach. "And besides, I'm broke. I'll be lucky to afford groceries after I pay rent next week."

"But I'm not. So let me worry about the tickets," he insists.

"No, Edward. I couldn't."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not even sure Jake will let me off."

"Just ask. What's the worst he could say?"

The next day, Bella does exactly that. She arrives to work early and fires off several emails before cleaning her desk, intent on convincing herself that there's too much going on at the office to justify leaving for an extended weekend. But after twiddling her thumbs for the better part of the afternoon, she can no longer find excuses. Rather than convince herself to stay, she's done the opposite.

Why not leave when it's not busy? If Bella doesn't leave now, she's not sure when she'll get another opportunity. Christmas is three months away, but that's enough time for her entire world to turn upside down. Charlie is so sick. She can't fathom the thought that she may not get another opportunity to see her father alive again. And if she doesn't introduce him to Edward now, they may never get a chance to meet.

Not that it matters anyway.

Maybe Edward will like Washington. The music scene is certainly enough to keep his attention. And he deserves to get away. Everyone needs a break every once in a while. Bella decides she can always pay him back for her ticket, and it's with all those things in mind that she timidly walks into Jacob's office before leaving for the day. It's worth asking, she repeats to herself. Jake can always say no.

"Problem, Bella?" He peels his eyes away from the computer screen long enough to acknowledge her entrance.

"Not at all. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Jacob shakes his head. "Of course not. What's up?"

"So, I was wondering, since it's been slow, if I could use some of my vacation and cut out of here early next week."

Jacob nods. "Sure thing. Are you going out of town?"

"That's the plan," she says. "My dad's been really sick."

"Cancer," Jacob remembers.

"Right." Bella continues, "So I was going to fly to Washington. Surprise him for a weekend."

She omits the part about going with Edward.

"When will you be gone?"

"If it's okay with you, I plan to leave on Thursday. Don't worry—I'll fly back in time to be at work on Monday."

Jacob smiles. He grabs a pen and marks the dates on his desk calendar. "Sounds great. I'll make sure the hours get added onto your check."

A rush of excitement causes Bella's heart to flutter. "Great. Thank you so much, sir. I really owe you one."

She turns to exit his office but doesn't quite make it out the door. "Hey, Bella?"

"What's up?"

"How much do you know about baseball?"

Considering she was raised by a single father, a lot. "More than you'd think. Why?"

"I've been trying to land a contract with Newton's Sporting Goods for months now. There's a Cubs game the Monday you return and we've got box seats. Think you can help me close the deal?"

It's an opportunity Bella can't turn down. "Of course."

"Awesome." Jacob flashes Bella a cocky grin. "And if it goes well, maybe we can talk about your promotion."

* * *

"Do all women pack, like, weeks in advance?"

Edward has teased Bella for the better part of the week, but she can't bring herself to mind. Ever since she left Jacob's office over a week ago, she's worn a permanent smile on her face. The tickets are booked. Her bags are packed. In two days she'll be surrounded by lush green and familiarity. And the best part is that her father still has no idea.

Bella re-arranges her neatly folded shirts for the hundredth time. Her packing skills exhibit a firm example of obsessive compulsive disorder. "We're leaving the day after tomorrow, Edward. I hardly call that excessive planning."

"Do you think my shopping cart will count as a carry on?"

She turns around and pushes him. Hard. "Please, for the love of God, do not tell my father you're homeless."

"Got it." He leans in and presses his lips to hers. "I'll use a politically correct term, like displaced or residentially flexible. Wouldn't want him to think I'm uneducated."

Their conversation only makes Bella wonder _what_ she's going to tell her father. She has no idea how to introduce Edward. If she had it her way, they would have established their relationship status a long time ago. But Edward still hasn't brought it up, and Bella is afraid to.

Edward assumes it's obvious. The status of their relationship has clearly moved past the initial arrangement. If he's being honest with himself, he knows that they were never really friends with benefits to begin with. It's always been more. But there's a serious conversation to be had between them, one he's been putting off for weeks. Being in a conventional relationship is one thing. Telling his girlfriend just how strongly he feels for her is something else entirely. It's nothing short of terrifying. Showing her is much easier, and that's exactly what he's been doing—sometimes twice a night.

He plans to tell her in Seattle.

The familiar ringtone of an iPhone fills the room, interrupting their playful banter. Edward and Bella immediately reach for their cell phones, but Edward comes out victorious. It's Jasper. He quickly slides his thumb across the screen and hits the speakerphone icon.

"My sister's not here," Edward says.

Jasper's tone is smug. "Oh, I know exactly where your sister is."

Bella laughs to herself. Edward rolls his eyes. He walked right into that one. "What do you want?"

"I need your help, man," Jasper says. "Adam's in rehab. He overdosed."

Adam plays drums in Jasper's band. Unfortunately he also has a bad habit or two. Women and alcohol are his weakness, but he's never shied away from experimenting with other, more volatile substances. For this reason Edward can't stand the guy. He's not exactly the poster child for clean living, but at least Edward's never stuck a needle in his arm to get high.

"It's about goddamn time."

"Shut the fuck up, dude. We've got that show on Saturday night. Label reps are coming. I need you to fill in or I'm fuckin' screwed."

"I can't," Edward says. There's no hesitation in his voice. He takes the phone off speaker. "Bella and I are going out of town, remember?"

"Can't you go another weekend?" Jasper asks.

"She's already got the time off."

"I need you, man. Everything I've worked for over the past three years has led up to this point. This show is going to make or break me."

"We already bought the plane tickets."

"You're the only one who knows the songs."

Edward stares straight ahead into Bella's eyes. He can see the heartache etched across her face. She knows exactly where this conversation is going, and it isn't good.

"Let me call you back," Edward says, playing on her worst suspicions. "Right. Okay. Bye."

"Bella..." he trails off. There's a lump in his throat. Her eyes sting.

"We can still go," he insists. "We can get our tickets changed. Fly back Saturday afternoon."

"What's the point?" Bella sighs. "We'll spend more time in transit than we will there."

She's right.

"You can still go," Edward suggests. It's the best solution he can come up with. "Go without me."


	14. But I deal with things like this

"Forget it. I'm coming with you."

Edward isn't joking. There's a bag in the backseat of the Volvo, one he packed unbeknownst to Bella. In case he changes his mind. Because he has always had every intention of going. It's why the companion ticket to Bella's was never cancelled, and why he insisted on giving her a ride to the airport. He has everything he needs to travel.

And he fully plans on doing it.

"No!" Bella insists. "Edward, you can't. I told you, it's okay."

It's really not. Bella wants nothing more than for Edward to change his mind, but she isn't going to say so. She tries to understand. There's nothing they can do. He has an obligation to his friend, and as much as it sucks, it's also a really good opportunity for him.

She doesn't want to be the one to take that away.

"It's not okay. I'm a dick," Edward vents. "I don't want you to go."

There's a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. All she has to do is say the words, and he'll tell Jasper to go fuck himself. It's exactly what he should've done in the first place. A weekend away with Bella sounds much more appealing than some stupid show, no matter who's watching.

"It's only a few days," she reminds him.

She's right, but it feels more like a lifetime. A lot can change in a few days. Bella knows very well what men are capable of, especially when put into the right situation. At Saturday's show, the alcohol will flow freely. The venue will be crawling with desperate women, girls who would do anything for a night with the attractive drummer. She'll have no way to deter them. No way to distract him. It's only a matter of time before he meets someone new. And if the band gets signed to a major label, it'll happen again and again.

This is the beginning of the end.

"Call me as soon as you land," he instructs. Edward's eyes nervously scan the security checkpoint before he looks back at Bella. "I'll miss you."

Other words play on the tip of his tongue, but he's too nervous to say them.

"Good luck on Saturday." She checks her watch. They've been stalling for the past fifteen minutes, and her plane will begin boarding any minute. "Okay, I really have to go now. Thanks for the ride."

He brings her in for one final embrace and presses his lips to her forehead, holding the stance for as long as he can get away with it. "Bye, Bella," he says finally, and it's with great reluctance that she pulls herself away.

Thirty-six thousand feet above the surface of the earth, Bella's perspective begins to shift. With every passing moment, she distances herself from Edward both physically and emotionally. She's bored. And angry. The empty seat next to her serves as a reminder of what could have been, and the idle time she has with nothing better to do than think proves disastrous for their situation.

He should've come. The trip was his idea, after all. She'll never be able to pay him back for the cost of the ticket, and by choosing Jasper's gig over her, Edward only solidifies Bella's insecurities about the relationship as a whole. At the end of the day, it's about sex and nothing more. She was a fool to think he might want something serious.

As angry as she is at Edward, she's also angry with herself. How did she end up in this situation to begin with? When Bella moved to Chicago, a relationship was the last thing on her mind. She didn't want to get attached. Establishing a career was the number one priority, but now it seems as if she's lost sight of everything that's important.

In just a few short days, Jacob is likely to offer her a promotion. She has a chance to start fresh, but she's barely given the opportunity a second thought because she's so occupied by the situation with Edward. She realizes that something needs to change.

She's wasting her time with him.

Distance will do them well. Space is what she needs. It's time to cut her losses, to quit while she's ahead. And with that in mind, when Bella steps off the plane in Seattle, she doesn't call Edward as he asked. Instead she texts. It's short, to the point, and when he fires back a response, she doesn't.

"God dammit, Edward. Get it together!"

Jasper yells over the feedback and reverb, beyond frustrated at his best friend. They've been practicing for hours in a tiny storage unit to prepare for tomorrow's show, but it would seem Edward has only gotten worse. His mind is elsewhere. Bella won't answer his calls. She doesn't respond to his texts.

Initially Edward attributed her unresponsiveness to being home and getting settled, but the more he thinks about it, the more he wonders if there's something else. The commute from Seattle to Forks takes over three hours, which means after Bella rented a car she had plenty of time to kill. And she's usually so quick to respond; her phone is always by her side. Perhaps the cell phone reception is spotty in the dense woodland of the Pacific Northwest.

Or maybe she's ignoring him.

Edward fucked up. He knows that much. Bella has every right to be upset with him, if in fact she is. He checks his phone again. The only missed call is from his mother. Three more calls to her cell in quick succession go unanswered. His phone flies across the room.

Bella doesn't want to talk to him. By this point he's almost certain of it. The drum set in front of him becomes a magnet for his aggression. Darkness falls over Chicago. Palms blister and sticks break. Night turns into morning, and begrudgingly, Edward plays on.

Two thousand miles away, a dying man is ecstatic to reunite with his only daughter. Bella's visit is a welcomed surprise. Her father and stepmother smile ear to ear as she recounts the series of events that led her to visit home, omitting the details that involve Edward. It's better if Charlie doesn't know she almost brought a guy home with her. Showing up on his doorstep unannounced is enough strain on frail body. Having Edward with her probably would've sent the poor man into cardiac arrest.

And it doesn't matter, because Edward won't be in her life much longer anyway.

She's fairly certain of that fact now. Bella doesn't know exactly how she's going to break things off with Edward, but she knows it's not going to be easy. Even still, she doesn't want to end it over the phone. Regardless of the fine details of their relationship or lack thereof, he deserves better than that. Avoiding the situation is easy when he's nowhere in sight. She decides it's best to deal with it when she gets back to Chicago. In Washington, it's much easier to pretend there isn't a problem.

Charlie goes to bed early. After a busy day of traveling, Bella should do the same, but she intends to make the most of her time at home. She's also in desperate need of a drink. Bella sends out a mass text message to old friends. It's Friday night, after all, and there's only one place in Forks open past eight o'clock. She straightens her hair, puts on a nicer top, and heads out to the bar.

It's past two o'clock in the morning by the time Edward unlocks the deadbolt to his new place. He only received the keys earlier this week, and the house is still practically empty. Something's missing—or someone. It doesn't yet feel like home. He grabs a bottle of whiskey from the top of the refrigerator and collapses onto the hand-me-down couch in the living room. If Bella doesn't call soon he's going to lose his mind. He's given up on calling her.

Luck was on Edward's side when Esme showed him all of their vacant units. There were several apartments for him to choose from, but only one house. The floor plan isn't large or elaborate, but the house is in a nice area, and its rent is steep. He assumed his mother would never allow him to occupy such a high revenue property, but as soon as he mentioned his eventual plans to ask Bella to move in with him, she was more than happy to oblige.

A few minutes into his binge, Edward's phone buzzes with a long overdue message. It's Bella. She tells him she's out at a bar with friends and dances around the explanation of why she hasn't called sooner. The messages that follow wrench Edward's fragile nerves. She says she's fine. He knows she's not. He asks if she's pissed at him. She changes the subject. He tries to call.

She sends him to voicemail.

Edward turns on the television and takes another long swig. The bottle is almost empty now. He should go to bed, but his bedroom is on the second floor. Tonight the couch will have to suffice. He's too exhausted to drag himself up the stairs. His muscles are sore. His head pounds, and the ringing in his ears does nothing to drown out the voice in his head telling him his relationship with Bella is in serious trouble.

It's all his fault.

If only he'd gone with her, they wouldn't be in this mess. She wouldn't be avoiding him like the plague. What was he thinking, anyway? What form of logic made him backing out sound even remotely okay? Helping his friend achieve his dreams is a nice gesture, but sabotaging a relationship he actually cares about in the process is madness. He needs to talk to her, to apologize.

Bella needs to know how he feels.

Instead she's out at a bar, halfway across the country. Edward cringes to think of what kind of sleazy characters Bella might be encountering. Is that why she didn't answer her phone? Is she going home with someone?

No. She wouldn't do that to him. Or would she?

The next morning Bella wakes up in her childhood bedroom alone with little motivation to open her eyes. Forks might be dull and cloudy compared to Chicago, but it's too bright for someone suffering from a massive hangover. Eventually she rolls onto her side and grabs the iPhone on her nightstand. Her eyes strain to look at the screen. It's not surprising that there are several new missed calls from Edward. Every message she reads makes her heart ache a little more.

She misses him.

Bella rolls out of bed, cursing herself for drinking so much. But after a few shots, it had been so easy for her to talk about her problems. Most of her friends said the same thing: leave him. Move on. Deciding on her own to end her fling with him was one thing. Hearing everyone else tell her to do it only made the situation all the more real.

"You alright, man?"

The band's set ended thirty minutes ago, after which Edward headed straight for the bar. He's been sitting there in silence ever since, a collection of empty glasses mounting in front of him. His best friend was just offered a record deal. He should be celebrating, not wallowing.

He couldn't care less. "Not really," he sighs.

"Heard from Bella?" Jasper asks.

"Not recently." Throughout the night she sent a text here and there, but the messages contained nothing to ease the weight in Edward's chest.

"Bree seems into you."

He spares a glance in the pretty red head's direction and wonders how much alcohol is affecting his judgment. She's chatting it up with a few of her friends at a nearby table, but it's obvious where her attention lies. Lustful eyes meet Edward's for longer than necessary, and she offers him her best flirty smile. He smiles back.

"She's hot," Edward admits. Very hot, he decides.

"So go talk to her," Jasper suggests. "Forget about Bella for a while."

There's no denying that he considers it. Under the original parameters of their relationship, he wouldn't be doing anything wrong. And besides, Bella would never know.

Bree takes the hint. Her friends whisper excitedly and practically push her away from their table and toward Edward. He swallows, trying his hardest to push back the voice in his head that tells him what he's doing is wrong.

Jasper pats him on the back. "Going backstage. Catch you later, man."

And suddenly in the middle of a crowded bar, Edward feels very alone.

"I still can't believe you guys are getting signed," she gushes. Bree started coming to Jasper's shows months ago when hardly anyone knew who they were. She's been on a first name basis with the band ever since.

"I'm not sure it's hit me yet. Everything is kind of surreal."

"Are you sticking around for good then?" she asks. "No more Adam?"

He shrugs. They haven't really discussed it. "I'm not sure yet."

"Do you think Jasper could load your gear up?" She shifts her body impossibly closer to his, making the first move. "I was thinking maybe we could get out of here."

It's the moment of truth. Edward knows exactly what will happen if he leaves now. He knows he can keep it a secret. Or he could blame the whiskey. It wouldn't be a total lie.

He could fuck things up forever.

"I can't." There's no hesitation in his voice.

"Oh," she says, confusion evident.

"I'm not single," he tells her. "My girlfriend, Bella, she's out of town visiting her dad."

Bree winks. "You know, she doesn't have to know."

He ignores her and rambles on. "I shouldn't even be here. I was supposed to go with her, but this goddamn show came up. Now she's halfway across the country and won't answer my fucking calls."

Edward checks his phone for good measure, and Bree plays on his fears. "So how do you know she's not with someone else?"

"She's not." He's sure of it. "She wouldn't do that to me."

"She might."

"Fuck off."

His eyes seek anyone familiar to bail him out of the awkward situation, and it's not until he remembers that he still has to pack his gear that he successfully escapes the persistent groupie. She can't touch him backstage. Hell, she isn't touching him anywhere—that's a fact.

Backstage, Jasper looks up from tinkering with a guitar. He broke a string while on stage. Alice sits in the corner, scowl on her face. It's clear they've been arguing, and It doesn't take many guesses to determine what about.

"I thought you went with Bree," she says disapprovingly.

He gives his sister a deathly stare. "Will you relax, Alice? I'm not going home with anyone tonight."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm in love with Bella."

**AN: Last week I ventured to Chicago and TFMU. Thanks to everyone—those who were there, and those who weren't—who has encouraged me to continue this fic. Special shout out to my prereaders (libbeh, joo, kb) and beta (ooza) ILY! Happy fourth!**


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